


I'm With You

by wkemeup



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Shenanigans, allusions to PTSD/suicidal thoughts, an asshole of an ex-boyfriend, literally no legit warnings its a miracle, super soft!bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:15:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 38,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22978249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wkemeup/pseuds/wkemeup
Summary: When two strangers meet on a layover in the Charlotte Airport, they are sent on a whirlwind weekend filled with cancelled flights, painful questions over giant checkers, an ex-boyfriend’s wedding, and a confrontational graduation. They find that a lifetime can sit in the span of three days and it doesn’t take very long at all to fall in love.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 41
Kudos: 217





	1. The Layover

**Author's Note:**

> Series playlist can be found here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4bpbwenEkxDaERiHE4hfhE?si=xi8aMi3rQn23FvKYJMZqrQ

Perhaps you should have known it was coming after the second time the flight got delayed. Nearing on two hours past your departure time and with a monsoon brewing past the windows outside, it was a wonder anyone at the gate was still holding onto hope. That was, until the moment the young gate agents with cheeks burning bright red announced that your flight had been canceled.

In most circumstances, you wouldn’t have been relieved as you were in that moment, standing in a never-ending line extending out into the middle of the walkway with disgruntled, stranded passengers grumbling under their breath and arguing amongst one another.

Most circumstances didn’t involve you flying to Atlanta to attend the wedding of the last and only man to break your heart.

You stood behind a rather tall man in a dark navy business suit, carrying a leather briefcase and tapping his toe incessantly as the single gate agent attempted to address the needs of the completely booked flight currently waiting in line. The man in the suit was barking orders at what seemed to be a poor intern on the other end of the phone as he nudged an elderly woman ahead of him to take a step forward the very second the line moved up.

With a roll of your eyes, you took a sip from the burning hot coffee you’d purchased shortly after the second delay, despite the fact that it had been nearing 11:00pm at the time. You seemed to be the only one who was mildly relieved by the cancelation and threat of spending an overnight stay in the Charlotte airport, though that didn’t surprise you much. Still, you didn’t much mind the possibility that you would have a genuine, no-fault-of-your-own, entirely-mother-nature’s-curse, excuse to avoid your ex’s wedding.

Then, carrying gently between the aggravated conversations around you, the soft humming of someone standing behind you pulled you from your daze.

You didn’t dare turn around, but you listened intently, caught up in the low vibrations of his voice, not entirely in key, but charming, and sweet. It sat in sharp contrast to the chaos surrounding you to hear something so relaxed, at ease, amongst the panic and frustration.

The coffee was still hot on your lips and you winced as it passed on your tongue. The man ahead of you folded his arms over his chest, relentlessly making a show of looking up and around those ahead of him to prove he had better things to do, to show that he was impatient and clearly irritated by his situation as he was the _only one_ with somewhere to be.

Those ahead of him weren’t much better; the lot of them all on the phone with representatives from the airlines and demanding their money back, demanding answers for next available flights, and blaming poor customer service for their troubles as if it was the gate agent’s fault that a monsoon had plundered its way through North Carolina.

“What a bunch of barbarians,” the voice behind you chuckled under his breath, the humming pausing for only a moment. His tone was like honey and you found yourself smiling, suppressing the subtle movement of your shoulders as you laughed quietly to yourself at his comment. 

“Bet the guy at the desk is going to lose his shit in about two minutes,” he said to himself, though you wondered briefly if he was talking to someone next to him or behind him, or maybe even you, though you didn’t dare to turn around. No one else responded to his commentary.

You glanced up ahead to who he seemed to be referring to, to find a middle-aged man in khaki slacks and a light blue polo, gripping a newspaper harshly in one hand and tapping his knuckles against the counter top with the other. His face was beet red, jaw clenching, and starring daggers into the poor gate agent.

It barely took longer than a few seconds before the man slammed his fist down onto the countertop, causing you to flinch in response. The honey-voiced man behind you chuckled under his breath, clearly amused by the aggressive reactions of those around him.

You found yourself wanting to turn over your shoulder, to steal a glance at the man with the sweetest sounding voice, even in off-key humming, who laughed in times of chaos and didn’t seem to be bothered at all to be standing in a seemingly never-ending line nearing midnight in the middle of Charlotte Douglas International.

In your brief moment of distraction, you didn’t notice the man in the suit take a sharp step back in reflex to the person at the front of the line waving their hands about, setting off a chain reaction of passengers flinching away from the scene. His elbow slammed down into the lid of your coffee and it slipped from your fingers with a gasp.

The cup fell to the floor in the kind of slow motion you see in the movies, like maybe if you reached out in time you could have grabbed it mid-air, but instead the cardboard cup slammed to the tile and the coffee spewed from the top as the lid broke away, dousing the pant legs of the man in the suit ahead of you. He yelped, jumping away from you and shoving you back with a harsh thrust.

Unsteady on your feet from the shock of it, you fell back into person behind you, into the man with the honey voice and the amusing observations. He caught you before you hit the ground with his arms hooked under yours, smelling of something like warmth and comfort and flannel and fireplaces, before you even caught sight of his face.

Blue eyed. The damned near bluest eyes you’d ever seen in your life and they were gentle, kind, like they were painted with care with several shades from the Mediterranean Sea and a cloudless sky and the petals of an iris. Bristles of scruff on his cheeks and dark brown hair brushed up in sweeps away from his eyes. He smiled softly at you, reassuringly, as he helped you back to your feet.

“You alright?” he asked softly and you nodded, just about lost in the smooth tone of his voice, up until the moment suit-man let out an aggravated howl.

“Look what you’ve done!” the man shouted, grabbing at the backs of his pant legs in disgust and sending darting glares at you.

Your lips parted to say something, but you were never good under pressure, not with so many wondering eyes looking over in your direction, whispering to one another, pointing and staring. Cheeks burning red and heating all the way down your neck, you felt a pang of embarrassment, of shame. You bent down quickly to retrieve the empty cup, stepping away from the pool of coffee on the floor.

“I’m– I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t–”

“You didn’t _mean to_?” he scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Do you have any idea how much this suit costs?! Probably more than a month of your salary, _sweetheart!_ ”

“Hey man, back off! It was clearly an accident,” blue-eyes interjected from behind you, carefully side stepping around you to put himself in the cross hairs. “It was _your_ elbow that knocked it out of her hand in the first place.”

The man glared at blue-eyes, studying him up as if he was determining if carrying on this fight was worth it with a man at least a decade younger and a build twice his size. He seemed to only be eager to kick and yell and fight when it was at a target without much of a will for defense, someone like you. You clenched your jaw, hating how easily you fell into that trap.

“Goddamn millennials,” the man in the suit grumbled under his breath, narrowing his eyes on you one last time before he turned his attention back to the front of the line. You let out a heavy sigh, the relief pouring through you almost instantly. You gripped the empty cup in your hand until it bent and crumpled at the center.

“What an asshole,” blue-eyes grumbled next to you, offering you a soft kind of smile that still managed to crinkle up by his eyes. He glanced down at the cup folding under your tight grip. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you replied slowly, though you kept an extra foot of distance between you and the man in the suit, even as he took a step forward when the line moved. “Thanks for that, by the way. You didn’t have to say anything.”

“Sure, I did. Chivalry still exists, you know,” blue-eyes said, that charmingly smooth tone of his voice running almost in shivers up your spine.

“Not in my experience,” you muttered under your breath, uncertain if he could hear you, though he raised an eyebrow, his smile faltering somewhat. If he heard you, he didn’t say anything.

You waited for what felt like another hour before you made it to the front of the line. The gate agent looked exhausted and practically winced at you stepped up, as if he was preparing himself for another verbal attack, but you were soft spoken and patient with him, a kind of change he wasn’t expecting.

Blue-eyes was on your right, talking with the second agent who had rushed up to the counter to assist. You could feel him glance over at you every few moments as you complimented the agent on his organization and calmness under pressure, getting the young man to laugh nervously in response.

The gate agent smiled a bit as he handed you a tentative flight and instructed you to listen to the overhead monitors for any changes. You nodded as you took the new ticket and grabbed your bag, getting ready to go find a quiet place by yourself to mentally prepare for facing this weekend after the nightmare it was already starting out on.

Attending your ex’s wedding was already a worst case scenario on its own. Now you’d have to show up with less than a few hours night rest, if any at all. You were sure you’d hear comments circulating about the bags under your eyes and the exhaustion plated on your face they’d no doubt attribute to remorse for a relationship that was kinder in your memories than it was in real life. 

You started to make your way out to the walkway when you heard a voice call out behind you.

“Wait, hold up!”

You turned over your shoulder to find blue-eyes finishing up at the counter and swinging his bag over his shoulder, a new ticket in his right hand. He jogged a few paces to catch up with you as you stilled.

“Any chance you’ll let me replace that coffee?” he asked with a warm smiling brimming on his lips.

“What?” you gaped.

You glanced down at your faded leggings, worn sneakers, and flannel hanging loosely over your shoulders. You didn’t consider yourself the type that men approached for that sort of thing, especially men with eyes that blue and a voice like honey.

“I figure it’s going to be a long night and finding sleep in a place like this is almost impossible,” he chuckled nervously, scratching at the back of his neck, “so why not stock up on caffeine? I know a café in Terminal C with a halfway decent blend and its usually pretty empty.”

“Oh,” you muttered anxiously, cheeks heating red because a man that gorgeous couldn’t possibly be serious. The suspicion was already creeping up through your stomach, screaming at you that he was like the rest of them, like he was exactly like your ex, that he would hurt you or that he was looking for repayment of some kind. You didn’t have much experience of anything else. “Well, I don’t– I don’t know–”

“You can say no,” he offered quickly, though he winced as he said it. “Of course, _you_ know you can say no. What I mean is, you can tell me to ‘eff off’ and I’ll leave you alone, but I just thought… I thought that guy was a jerk and he ruined a perfectly good full cup of coffee and if you wanted, I’m happy to get you a new one. I just—I figured that your night is already pretty shitty with the flights being grounded and then that _sonuvabitch –_ _who didn’t even apologize –_ yelled at you for _no reason_ and–” he grimaced. “I’m rambling. Sorry.”

You watched him carefully, studied the way he fumbled over his words, his cheeks turning a soft shade of pink, even through the light scratches of his beard. It was almost endearing. You hadn’t seen a man blush like that before. There was a lingering kind of sadness behind the ocean blue of his eyes you couldn’t quite place and it drew you in unlike anything else.

“Terminal C, huh?” you asked, pulling the nerves from your voice the best you could and his smile lit up again instantly.

“Yeah, Terminal C. It’s a bit of a walk, as long as you don’t mind?” he said, lugging his bag over his shoulder and gesturing for you to follow him out into the hall.

“Don’t got much else to do,” you shrugged, surprised that you found yourself smiling as you strolled up next to him.

He had a comforting kind of ease to him and you wondered why he also seemed to be relieved by cancelations. You had your reasons and looking around at the frustrated looks on bystanders faces as you walked by, the arguments amongst family members, the children crying, you couldn’t help but question why blue-eyes didn’t seem to be bothered at all.

“My name’s Bucky, by the way,” he said as he stepped aside at the moving walkway, letting you pass by him to take the first step. He slid onto the walkway behind you with one step.

“Well, it’s nice to be meet you, Bucky,” you replied sincerely, leaning against the right side of the railing as the floor beneath you carried you slowly down the hallway. You had the time to be leisurely and let the walkway move for you.

In the brief moment of silence that followed, Bucky was smiling as he stared at the floor, stealing glances over at you like he was waiting for something. You were about to ask him what he was looking at until he asked, “do I get the pleasure of your name as well, or should we save that for later?”

You laughed, the nervousness offsetting the embarrassment of completely forgetting obvious social cues. Gripping at the edge of the railing, you watched as he stared out into the sea of people as you rode by, smiling softly at the kids who were curled up under their parents’ coats draped over them in blankets and laughing, almost impressed, at the teenagers who had started gathering in a circle, all huddled around their portable games.

Pushing out a kind of confidence you hadn’t known in years, you said, “you buy me that coffee you were talking about and _maybe_ I’ll give you a name.”

Bucky grinned, turning back to face you, clearly amused by your answer. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

Walking at a leisurely pace, it took a half hour before Bucky gestured for you to stop in front of a small café tucked into the corner next to one of the empty gates, lights barely illuminated with a single staff member hunched behind the counter on his cell phone. The tables were empty and it looked like no one had been there all day with the shelves of to-go items fully stocked.

“Welcome to the best coffee in the Charlotte Airport,” Bucky grinned, extending his arm out like he was showing off a new car. You narrowed your eyes on his, pursing you lips and he dropped his hand, chuckling lightly. “I never said it was particularly good, but it’s not terrible. Plus, we’ve got the place to ourselves if you allow me to stick around.”

“You want to?” you asked, cursing yourself for how timid you sounded. Another thing to blame your ex for. The ex whose wedding you’re supposed to be attending tomorrow. _Goddamnit._

“Don’t got much else to do,” he shrugged, repeating your words from when he had asked you to come with him in the first place with a teasing kind of smile that made your stomach twist into knots.

You nudged him hard in the side, laughing, and he stumbled away a few paces, grinning wildly until it crinkled up by his eyes. You wondered if you’d ever seen a man more beautiful in your life, though you pushed the thought away quickly.

Bucky jogged up to the front counter, gathering the attention of the teenager on his phone as he slowly glanced up, slipping his phone into his pockets.

“What can I get you?” the kid asked, voice low and slow, like he’d just woken up from a nap.

“Anything fancy for you or keep it simple?” Bucky turned back, asking over his shoulder. You gave him your order and he smiled at it, ordering one of the same. The teenager didn’t seem to be amused by Bucky’s charming smile and huffed an exasperated sigh as he started to make the drinks.

“You sure you don’t mind?” you asked as Bucky handed over his card.

“It’s just a coffee, doll. I don’t mind at all,” he said, the pet name rolling off his tongue as if it didn’t mean much of anything. It left a burning, twisting ache in your stomach and a heat in your cheeks, forcing you to nervously tug and pull your hair behind your ear.

You wondered if it was a name he gave for any woman whose name he hadn’t yet learned; perhaps, the same way older men called waitresses ‘sweetheart’ or the way the man in the suit had so patronizingly taunted it at you earlier, though there wasn’t even a hint of a condescending tone in Bucky’s voice. It was genuine. _He_ was genuine.

You thanked him and followed him to the small table tucked in the corner of the café, away from the hall though with enough of a vantage point to watch for stranded passengers as they walked by. Terminal C seemed to be pretty empty so there wasn’t much chance for that, though he told you he liked to take every opportunity to people watch as he could. There was just something so fascinating about how strangers acted when they weren’t putting on a show, when they were at ease, purely themselves.

You set your new ticket on the table, keeping a watchful eye of the flight number like the attendant had instructed you to in case any changes were made overhead. Bucky did the same and you noticed they put him on a separate flight. The ounce of disappointment didn’t slip your notice but you shoved it aside.

“The departure board’s got more red on it than green,” Bucky said as he settled into his chair, “might be time to seek food and shelter and buckle in for a long night.”

“You sure you’re in Charlotte Douglas and not the Hunger Games?” you laughed, adjusting your bag next to your feet.

“You’ve never endured an overnight in Charlotte, have you?” he countered teasingly.

You shook your head and he let out a heavy sigh, though a smile brimmed on his cheeks, almost like he was excited.

“The hotel’s already booked up by now and as soon as these people realize they’re not getting a flight out of here until tomorrow morning, hell is gonna break lose,” he informed you, carefully watching a family of five as they passed by hand in hand out in the walkway. The father had an anxious kind of look on his face every time he glanced at the youngest of the children as if he was expecting for the boy to realize at any second he wasn’t going to be in his bed tonight with his favorite stuffed animals. He was a ticking time bomb.

“We’ve got about an hour left before the food joints start shutting down and then after that, nothing until six-thirty sharp,” Bucky continued, “Plus, you figure you need to secure an outlet or two and a decent place to sleep, if you’re able to do that sort of thing in a place like this.”

“Good lord,” you exhaled, crossing your arms over your chest as you smirked at him, “guess you better get started.”

“Oh, I am,” he replied casually with a shrug. “Step one is securing alliances.”

You narrowed your eyes on him, scouring his face for signs that he was mocking you and searching behind him for a hoard of his buddies hanging over his shoulder snickering to themselves as their friend messed with the sad girl alone at the airport, you came up completely empty.

“You’re actually serious?” you gaped.

He nodded. “Of course. I’ve already got the caffeine and the ally. We’ll need to secure some snacks next. When you’re ready, of course. Though, we do have a time restraint here so don’t be too long with your coffee.”

“Well, for one, I can take this on the go,” you joked, lifting up your coffee with a teasing grin.

“See how well that went last time though? Can’t risk running into any other asshole businessmen in expensive suits _worth a month of your salary, sweetheart!”_ Bucky mimed eccentrically, trying to mock the voice of the man in the suit but failing halfway through in a fit of laughter.

“Okay, fine,” you conceded, removing the lid to your cup and letting the steam loose. You sighed at the fresh smell of coffee as it filled your lungs and warmth spread through you before you could even take a sip. “So, we stay here for a bit and finish our drinks. Then we’ll find snacks. Then what?”

Bucky shook his head, taking a sip of his coffee before he spoke again. The content sigh that followed sent shivers up your spine. “Don’t get too ahead of yourself, doll. It’s a process.”

“Naturally,” you agreed with a smile on your lips so wide it ached in your cheeks.

Bucky sighed, leaning back into his chair, glancing out into the walkway and studying those who passed by. He was so content, so unbothered by the cancellation, as he casually sipped his coffee, stealing glances over in your direction every so often, you couldn’t help the curiosity as it built up.

“So, you were going to Atlanta, too?” you asked before you took another sip of the steaming coffee.

“Trying to. It’s been, uh, it’s been a while since I’ve gone down there,” he replied, though his smile faltered a bit before he could catch it. You narrowed your eyes on him, surprised by his reaction, though you didn’t push it at all. He cleared his throat, pushing it back out though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “How’s the coffee?”

“Wonderful now that it’s not covering the back of a furious businessman’s suit,” you responded, taking another sip. Bucky chuckled under his breath and you found yourself missing the soft glimmer behind his eyes. It returned when you asked him about the last time he’d been stranded in Charlotte, as he clearly had experience with it.

He spent the next half hour telling you every ridiculous story you couldn’t have made up if you tried about the bizarre things he’d witnessed at three in the morning walking around the terminals and what kinds of trouble he got in back in his younger days with the airport security for doing cartwheels down the halls.

“Cartwheels?” you laughed, struggling to keep your breath as your eyes watered. “You can’t be serious…”

Bucky was beaming as he nodded, all blue eyes and pink lips and chocolate colored hair raking through his fingers. He pointed over your shoulder to an open space by the escalator.

“I crashed into the railing right over there,” he nodded, then gesturing to his hip bone, “it landed me a bruise for a few months right on my side.”

“How old were you?” you asked, struggling to contain your laughter enough to take another sip of your coffee that was already room temperature.

Bucky scratched the back of his neck, cheeks red, and so incredibly adorable it was simply unfair. “Twenty-one.”

“Of course, you were.” You shook your head, watching as he hid behind his coffee cup as he took a big gulp, evading your eyes and glancing over to the open space like he was caught up in memories.

“So, what about you?” he asked as he set his coffee down again. “You ever been stranded here?”

“Fortunately not,” you shrugged, finishing off your drink with a content sigh. You glanced over at the clock, wondering how so much time had passed without even realizing it. It had been ages since you’d felt that way around someone.

“Sounds like you’re in need of some Charlotte layover tradition then, doll,” Bucky grinned, something mischievous brewing in his head as he chugged back the rest of his lukewarm coffee and tossed the cup into the nearest trash with a full layup stance. He did the same with yours. “Come with me.”

He extended his hand to you as he stood, long lifelines extending along his palm and you noticed a sliver of marred scarring peeking out behind the sleeve of his over-shirt. You narrowed your eyes on it, curious, but he pushed down the fabric nervously.

“Please, doll. I promise it’ll be fun,” he urged, not letting his hand drop away even as you eyed him reluctantly.

“How do you know my idea of fun? You still don’t know my name,” you teased, having already decided to take up his offer the moment he extended his hand but it was so incredibly endearing to watch his nerves on display.

“Oh, I know, but I’m confident you’ll tell me soon enough,” he said, grinning wildly as you slipped your hand into his regardless. Firm and rough, with callouses on his hands like he’d spent years in service and labor jobs, but gentle like he was holding something precious as he helped you stand. An enigma.

The teenager behind the counter had been watching you with an irritable look on his face and you nudged Bucky’s side as he picked up both of your bags in his free hand. Bucky followed your gaze and then took a quick glance at the clock before he started to laugh, pulling you towards the hall.

“Think we overstayed our welcome here,” he grimaced, nodding to his watch that read it was past midnight. “Coffee shop was supposed to close ten minutes ago.”

“Oh no,” you pouted, turning back to the cashier with an apologetic smile as you called, “sorry about that!” over your shoulder.

Bucky led you to the center of the hall. Around you were a few stranded passengers from flights heading out west, all looking like they’ve been kicked and dragged through the mud. Meanwhile, Bucky was smiling like he just won the lottery. You didn’t realize his hand was still gripped in yours until he dropped your bags beside him with a heavy thud and he let go.

He took in a deep breath, sending a wink in your direction as he took a single step away from you and pushed his hands out into the sky, swing his momentum around in an acrobatic swing that was admittingly quite awful, with bent legs and wobbling landing, but… _a cartwheel._

Holy shit, he was serious.

A few random passengers lying on the floor had propped up to look in his direction before turning over to ignore him. Bucky wiped his hands on his pants as he grimaced at the dirt he’d collected. He nodded at a woman in high heels as she walked past giving him a strange look of both disgust and attraction. She might have been eyeing him before he went and did that ridiculous cartwheel, but a man that handsome had some allowances for odd behavior, didn’t he? She seemed to think so, but Bucky paid her no mind as he turned back to you.

“Your turn.”

“Absolutely not,” you scoffed, laughing nervously as you took a step back.

“Absolutely, _yes_ ,” Bucky retorted, grabbing your hands and tugging you to the spot where he was just standing. “This is tradition, doll. You can’t mess with a tradition.”

“Do you realize how insane you sound?” you accused, though you were smiling so wide it started to hurt in your cheeks. His hands were still on yours and his lifted them above your head, nudging your feet with his shoes to get you in starting position.

“You’ve done a cartwheel before, haven’t you?”

“Of course,” you shot back, “back when I was fifteen, Bucky!”

He grinned, stepping back and letting go of your hands. “Then you’ll be perfect. Just like riding a bike.”

“Yeah, I don’t think it’s the same thing,” you mumbled, blushing as a middle-aged couple walked by and rolled their eyes at the two of you. Bucky must have noticed.

“Don’t worry about them, doll,” Bucky said quietly, arms folded over his chest as he planted his feet, waiting patiently. He smiled softly at you, the overly confident and borderline cartoonish character falling away for a moment and you found yourself lost in shades of blue you could have drowned in if he’d let you.

 _Shit._ You shook your head, tearing your eyes away from his. _Stop thinking like that._

_Do the damn cartwheel._

Bucky rubbed his hands together in anticipation and you closed your eyes. One deep breath in, you held it in your lungs as you propelled yourself onto your hands, touching the ground with the full of your weight for only a second before you were on your feet again.

Guess it _was_ like riding a bike.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Bucky shouted, drawing the attention of the very irritated passengers attempting to sleep in the corner of the hall. It was still midnight, after all. But in the mist of his energy and the way he was smiling at you and rushing towards you to high-five your hands now covered in a thin layer of dirt, you couldn’t bring it in yourself to care about the wondering eyes of the stranded observers.

“We better get those snacks before the shop closes,” he said, turning to you with a massive smile.

How was it possible to so easily get lost in the eyes of a stranger you hardly knew? Blue and grey waves sharper and softer than that of the ocean. Pink in his lips that drew you in and you didn’t realize you were staring until he grabbed your hand, tugging you along.

You started to laugh as he dragged you down the hall, not letting go of your hand as he led you down to a corner store with walls lined with snacks. He grinned like a kid in a candy store and gestured for you to walk in like it was a five-star restaurant. The fact that he waved at the cashier who returned his greeting in a familiar smile didn’t slip your notice.

“Do you know him?” you asked, following Bucky further into the store to the back wall lined with snacks, in past the magazines and novelty t-shirts.

“Charlie and I go way back,” he nodded, strolling carefully through the aisles, hands clasped behind his back as he contemplated his choices and he glanced back up at you, smiling that sweet smile that made your stomach twist. Though he paused as he said, “I used to get trapped here overnight a lot growing up.”

He lost his smile a bit as he spoke and it surprised you, unsure of what kind of memory he was thinking back to that could possibly take even a sliver of his smile away from him. You grabbed a bag of your favorite chips from the wall and tossed it over at him. They hit him straight in the chest and he caught them before they fell, the smile returning quickly as he looked over at you with a feigned look of offense.

He grabbed a few bags off the wall after careful selection and raised them up for your approval. You nodded at every choice, except for the bag of jerky he’d held up teasingly. Once he’d gathered enough to fill his arms, a solid mix of salty chips and sweet chocolates and candies, he made his way up to the cashier.

Charlie’s name tag was long faded and he looked like he had been working here for decades. He took his time scanning through Bucky’s items, though he raised an eyebrow at the bag of Skittles and Bucky nodded, a silent conversation between the two before Charlie slipped the candy into the bag.

True to his word, Bucky pushed aside the cash from your hand as you tried to pay and he handed Charlie his card. You grunted, doing that little dance most couples do on a first date when the bill comes, though you started to blush as soon as the thought made its way into your head.

This _wasn’t_ a date. This was… well, you didn’t know what this was, but it was certainly _anything but_ a date.

An acid trip, maybe? An elaborate dream? One of those cheesy Hallmark movies where an angel or a ghost from your past teaches you how to open up and love again?

Probably.

But definitely _not_ a date. He didn’t even know your name.

By the time Bucky gathered the bags of snacks and you followed him out to the main walkway, stranded passengers had begun lining up at every fast-food join within sight, lines carrying far down into the hallway and grumbled groans as managers came out to inform the crowds they were running out of food.

“What did I tell you?” Bucky grinned, nudging your shoulder and you shook your head, trying to suppress your laughter. “Chaos starts once these tourists realize they’re trapped. Someone’s going to start trying to buy food off of people before they take their first bite. Just you wait.”

He was something from a dream, you were sure of it.

“Okay, fearless leader. What’s next?”

He chuckled at that and your stomach flipped a little, though you did your best to ignore it.

“Outlets and shelter,” he replied matter-of-factly, like he’d done this dozens of times before, as he studied the hallway to the left and right, determining which was the better way to go. He chewed on his lip, clearly caught in thought before he straightened his back and turned to you with a grin. “I’ve got a place in mind. You trust me?”

“I don’t know you and _you_ still don’t know my name,” you responded teasingly, though somehow, you knew the answer was yes.

“Sometimes trust is something you learn over time and sometimes it’s a gut instinct,” he shrugged, offering you his hand. “What’s your gut telling you, doll?”

“That you might be an insane person… or an abirritation,” you laughed, though you grabbed onto his hand and let him lead you out into the hallway, “but clearly, I’m okay with that.”

“That’s all I need,” Bucky beamed, tugging on your hand to get you to walk faster until you were practically jogging.

Lugging your suitcase behind you as Bucky held a firm grip onto the bags of snacks in on hand and you in the other, he led you far away from the crowds of people, past the moving walkways and the food courts, past the gates with attendants behind the counter, until the lights were dimmer and you passed by nearly five gates that were completely empty.

He let go of your hand and gestured to the gate marked A29 with a familiar smile on his face, though it seemed a little sad with a crease forming in his brow and a slight tremble of his hand clenching by his side.

“How did you know this place would be deserted?” you asked in awe as you tossed your bag onto one of the dozens of open chairs, spinning yourself around freely like you were in the meadows on a warm summer day and not currently trapped in an airport with a monsoon outside and stuffy air-conditioning blowing through the vents.

“Had a hunch,” he replied, though when you rolled your eyes playfully at him, he chuckled, conceding, “I saw this terminal had most of its flights out before the storm broke. Figured it would be pretty untouched for the rest of the night.”

“You’ve been out here before,” you observed, catching the way he stared longingly over at a corner by the desk like he was watching an old memory play out in front of him. Though he wore his smile again, it was softer now, sadder. He seemed caught up in his imagination and you took a careful step forward, tapping on his shoulder and smiling enough for the both of you. “Come on. I’ve got first dibs on the Doritos.”

“So,” Bucky started, “you never said why you were going to Atlanta.”

“Neither did you, smart guy. Why would I give that information away to a complete stranger?” you teased, following Bucky as he led you to the series of outlets against the wall. You slid down the window, leaning against it as rain pummeled against the glass from the other side.

Bucky shrugged, smiling encouragingly as he sat down next to you and pulled his phone charger from his bag. “You don’t have to tell me anything, doll, but I noticed the way you smiled when the gate agent announced our flight was cancelled when everyone else was groaning and crying. You were smiling _._ Just curious, is all.”

You narrowed your eyes at that, watching him silently as he plugged his phone in and the face of a young girl illuminated on the screen. She was smiling, almost mid-laugh, and Bucky was off in the background of the image, racing towards her, perhaps a few years younger judging by the haircut. She looked a little like him.

You wondered then if she had anything to do with why he had lost some of his energy as he came up on this gate, falling into a memory he recognized. He was complex man; you’d give him that.

“I was… um… going to a wedding,” you confessed slowly and Bucky smirked, pleased to get something out of you.

“You sound unsure about that,” he pointed out, ripping open a bag of chips and plopping four into his mouth.

You shrugged, “yeah, well, even if I make it in time tomorrow, I still don’t know if I’ll go.”

“Why’s that? Seems like a long way to travel if you’re not gonna–”

“The groom is my ex.”

“Oh shit,” Bucky coughed on the chips that were about halfway down his throat. He leaned over, heaving into a napkin and you rubbed at his back instinctively, careful circles over the soft fabric of his t-shirt as his whole body shook with each cough. You pulled away with a blush as he smiled at you once the fit subsided. He sat back again the wall, brushing his wrist over his lips as he stole another look over at you. “You’re joking.”

“Afraid not,” you shrugged, pressing your lips into a thin line.

You were embarrassed to even say it aloud, to have to first explain to all of your friends why you agreed to go even as they begged you not to, to have to pack your bag and tell your mother why you won’t be home for Sunday dinner, to have to say it even to this man who was practically a stranger who’s approval and kindness you suddenly found yourself craving. Two years since the break-up and you still struggled to get past the man who broke your heart. Saying no to your ex, to _Jack_ , wasn’t something you were used to and it came as old habit.

“This monsoon might have just saved you from a weekend in hell,” Bucky exhaled, turning to face you with a smile that lightened the anxiety in your chest. He offered you the bag of chips and you took them gratefully.

“You’re probably right,” you said, tossing a few chips into your mouth, though you knew the universe would find a way to get you to that wedding, whether or not you were ready for it.

“You on good terms with the guy, at least?” Bucky asked and you shook your head, clenching your jaw.

He frowned, though he didn’t press you any further as he must have noticed your cheeks flush, shame seeping in you. Bucky let out a tired exhale, leaning back against the window and slumping further to the floor.

He cared, that much you could tell. He was bothered by the fact that you were going to this wedding, alone, and that even with all that you didn’t even have a good post-breakup relationship with the guy. You wondered how it was possible for someone to learn to care so fast and what your night would have been like if he hadn’t been standing directly behind you in that line, if the monsoon never rolled in and this handsome, incredibly endearing stranger never stormed into your life.

Would you have gone to that wedding, watched the man you once thought was the love of your life devote himself to a woman after he broke your heart over his inability to commit? Would you have cried through the ceremony and drank yourself into obligation because he’d hurt you so bad you hadn’t been able to even date since he left you?

Would you have boarded that flight without a second thought to the stranger with the blue eyes and the infectious smile?

“What about you?” you asked carefully, taking another bite of the chips before handing it to him.

“What? You trying to do a something-personal-for-something-personal kind of thing?” Bucky laughed, though there was a nervous edge to his voice.

“Only if you want,” you offered, smiling gently at him and giving him the out if he wanted it. It hadn’t been very long since he avoided the question the first time when you had been sitting over coffee in the empty café.

He took in a heavy breath, though it was shaken. You narrowed your eyes, watching him carefully as he sat up, straightening his back and brushing his hair back from his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m, supposed to uh, I’m supposed to see…” he sighed, scratching at the back of his neck, his voice falling low suddenly. His lips pursed into a frown and the light faded from the blue of his eyes. Something was clearly bothering him and he couldn’t seem to even string the words together.

“I haven’t seen her since I… and my ma says that I’ve been…” he groaned, clenching his jaw and running his hand over his lips. He wasn’t making much sense, that much was clear to the both of you. His eyes fell to the floor and he was only a whisper of the man who stood laughing at the hoard of passengers at your gate.

He was layered, dimensional; both the man with confidence unlike you’d ever seen and the shy, nervous guy with a heart bigger than most men you knew.

Your stomach hurt just watching him struggle to answer your question.

“Y/n,” you blurted out, catching his attention and he raised an eyebrow. You let out a steady breath. “My name. It’s Y/n. Something personal for something personal, right?”

Bucky nodded, repeating your name back to you and a soft smile came over his lips. It sounded like velvet and honey and all kinds of wonderful coming from his voice. He relaxed a bit, the tension slipping from his shoulders. “It’s a nice name. Y/n. Suits you.”

But his voice was still low, aching, and it made your heart twist.

“Come on,” you urged, grabbing his hand and lugging him back up to his feet, determined to bring back the witty and charismatic man who threw you into this mess to begin with. You didn’t like seeing him upset.

“Thought you wanted to know–”

“Not now,” you replied casually and you could practically feel the weight lift off his shoulders as you dragged him over to the massive checkers set in the corner of the gateway set aside for restless travelers. “I’ve got a preposition for you.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“I get to ask you a question every time I knock one of your pieces off the board,” you proposed, positioning yourself on the side of the board with red chips as big as your shoes, “and if you get one of mine, you get to ask me a question.”

“Do I have to answer?” Bucky teased, folding his arms over his chest and you could already see him coming back into himself.

“Only if you don’t want to be a total loser,” you shrugged kicking your piece out to make the first move. Bucky laughed and squatted down at the board, taking his time to determine his trajectory before he made his move.

It only took three turns before you knocked out one of his pieces.

“Truthfully now,” you started, eyeing him as he crossed his arms over his chest, “in all of your layovers, how many people have you dragged around this airport doing cartwheels and raiding convenience stores?”

A laugh burst from Bucky’s chest and you swore you’d never heard a more beautiful sound in your life, his whole body caught up in the moment. It had been a while since you’d seen someone laugh like that without trying to suppress it. He was unlike anyone you’d ever met, though, you supposed you knew that already.

Then he paused, folding his arms, studying you. “You want to know how many _women_ , don’t you?”

“That’s not what I said,” you retorted, trying to hide your blush, though it was obvious as day.

“Only one before you in all my years,” he responded with a nod, “but she was a frequent flyer with me. Not what you think and certainly not the same.”

“That didn’t make a lot of sense, Bucky,” you accused with a grin, “you’re being cryptic.”

“Maybe you should ask a more specific question next time,” he countered with a sink.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” you grumbled as Bucky started to eye the board for his move. 

“So, you think I’m cute?”

You froze, heat flushing into your cheeks as you realized what you said. Glaring up at Bucky as he watched you amusingly. You rolled your eyes.

“Like you don’t already know,” you huffed, trying to push aside the embarrassment you felt through a playful smile.

“Still, it’s nice to hear,” Bucky grinned, nudging his piece to jump over yours and he discarded the red coin off to the side. “How long were you with this ex?”

Your breath hitched in your lungs and you cleared your throat, taking your time to meet his eye again. “You don’t mess around, do you?”

“Nope,” he replied, popping the ‘p’ on the purse of his lips.

“Three years,” you said quickly, before you could lose your nerve. “He was my college boyfriend. Had plans to move in together and talked about getting married ourselves before he decided he’d rather _‘explore his options’_ once graduation came around. Hadn’t heard from him since. Until I got the invite to his wedding. Guess he found a better option.”

“Yikes,” Bucky winced, “what an asshole. Why did you even agree to go to his wedding?”

“Sorry, you already used up your question. Better wait for your next turn.” You winked at him, holding your pointer finger up as you maneuvered your way around the board to find your next move. It was a relief to cut him off. Your relationship with Jack wasn’t an easy one to talk about and you didn’t want him to think of you the way Jack often saw you; small and spineless. So, you pushed out a smile and pretended you were fine.

Bucky shook his head, armed folded over his chest enough to see the prominent outline of the muscles in his biceps, and he laughed at your response. It was a sweet kind of sound that made your chest fell warm, even with the anxiety in your stomach at the very thought of your ex. It was genuine for as often as he did it and it seemed to live permanently etched into his cheeks.

You went back and forth for a few turns, each picking off the other’s pieces on every round. He asked you about your family, about your favorite flavor of ice cream, about your movie preferences and your day job. You asked him about the scars lining his left arm, peeking out as he scratched at his wrist and he told you it was from an accident on the job, though he didn’t elaborate further. You asked about the college shirt he was wearing any why he dared to go to school in Georgia if he was really a New Yorker like he claimed, though he laughed it off and said it wasn’t his alma mater. You asked about his typical coffee order and hair routine and how he got it so fluffy and he laughed so hard, tears welled in his eyes.

It was almost a half hour of the simpler questions before Bucky knocked out another one of your pieces with satisfied hum and took a moment to think of his question. He watched you for a moment, studying you almost, and your stomach lurched a little. Not because he made you uncomfortable, but because you could see the carefulness behind his eyes, the soft smile on his face, and a man like that looking at you like you were something special was an unfamiliar feeling to say the least.

“You don’t really think this woman he’s marrying is ‘the better option,’ do you?”

You bit down so hard on your lip you drew blood. The sincerity of his question threw you and your heart must have skipped about a dozen beats before you could even blink. Bucky must have noticed your sudden distress and he clenched his jaw. A red heat formed in his cheeks you never would have expected.

“Maybe I should say I’m not trying to pry, but I clearly am,” he admitted with a tired laugh. “I’ve only known you for a few hours, Y/n, and I don’t know how anyone could think you’re anything but the _best_ option. And if this guy was with you for years, it shouldn’t even be a question.”

“That’s… that’s really kind, Bucky, but you don’t know me,” you mumbled, unable to meet his eye and losing every ounce of confidence you had clung to around him. Jack had a way of doing that to you, even when he wasn’t around.

But Bucky was determined. He shook his head, crossing the board and grabbing a tender hold of your arms, urging you to look at him. His hands were warm against you, large, a little calloused and rough on the edges but so incredibly gentle.

“I know that you treated that poor gate agent with empathy and patience and got him to laugh after the hell storm of passengers who had just spent their time yellin’ at the guy. I know that you agreed to follow a borderline intrusive stranger through an airport at midnight at the promise of caffeine,” he said, smiling sweetly. “I know that you apologize to teenage employees for staying a few minutes past close without realizing it. I know that you can do a near perfect cartwheel and how you take your coffee.”

“Bucky, I–”

“I know that you’re funny and adventurous and kind. I know that you’re incredibly perceptive and you changed the subject when you caught onto how hard it was for me to tell you why I’m going to Atlanta,” Bucky said casually, sternly almost just to make you believe him, as if his words didn’t make your heart swell so much in your chest it hurt. “Your ex is an asshole, is all I’m saying. He never should have said something like that to you. You’re someone’s _best option_ , you hear me? Don’t settle for some jerk who tells you you’re anything less.”

You swallowed nervously, getting caught in deep oceans of blue and grey as Bucky held onto you. There wasn’t a trace of anything but sincerity in his eyes and you wondered how it was possible he even existed. He rubbed gently at your arms, like he was trying to draw warmth, and the smile on his lips was enough to float butteries in your stomach.

“Thanks, Bucky,” you said softly, sincerely, and he nodded at you encouragingly.

He stepped back to his side of the board and you missed him standing so close to you, missing his hands on you, and you clenched your jaw, trying to push the feelings away.

“Since you didn’t technically answer my question, I’m asking another one,” he said lightly, grinning wildly and it brought back the smile to your face. “You’re from New York, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. Queens. Live there now, too,” you replied, wondering how on earth he was able to deduce that and watching the way he smiled to himself, nodding. “Why?”

“Not your turn to ask questions, Y/n,” Bucky teased, though he seemed pleased with your answer. “Make your move, Queens.”

You laughed, already feeling light again and amazed by how easy it was for him to bring that back out in you. You nudged a piece with your foot and swerved it around of two of his. You kicked two black pieces off the board.

“That’s two questions,” you pointed out and he shrugged, challenging you.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you studied him for a moment. There were a million different questions you could ask. You thought about asking whether he’d been born and raised in the city like you, if he’d ever traveled abroad, what the military tag on his suitcase was for and if he ever served. You wondered if he was single, if this was a one night thing where you’d go your separate ways and never see one another again, if he was really as kind and as charming as he seemed because you still couldn’t believe he was real.

You were about to ask him something trivial because you were too afraid to get an answer that would break your heart when he cleared his throat.

“Or,” he started, nervously, “you could ask one big question?”

You narrowed your eyes, confused, and waiting for him to continue.

He sighed. “You could ask about my sister. If you want?”

You paused, watching the way he swayed in his stance, arms fold tightly across his chest like he was trying to hold himself together. She must be the girl in the picture on his phone, the reason why he started acting strange, upset, when he tried to tell you why he was going to Atlanta.

He nodded at you and you could tell he was ready, that he wanted to talk about it now, and you gestured to the wall adjacent to the game. He followed you silently, sliding down the wall to take a seat on the floor next to you. He folded his legs under him while you tucked your knees up to your chest, waiting patiently. You didn’t know the question to ask, but he let out a heavy sigh and started for you.

“Her name’s Rebecca. Bec. We used to travel alone a lot when we were kids to go see our dad,” Bucky said softly, scratching the back of his neck. “We had layovers here a lot and if the flight got cancelled, we’d just get stuck overnight. I mean, I was old enough to watch out for her okay so it wasn’t a big deal, but she used to get scared. So, I started making it a game. It happened more times than you would think and it managed to make her feel better, got her laughing. We used to spend all our money at that convenience shop on chips and candy and race in these halls and do cartwheels and blast music and play games over by that gate.”

You smiled as Bucky talked. He stared off across the gate to where your bags were, over where the memory he had been reliving earlier was, and avoided your eyes, but you knew this wasn’t the hard part of the story. You let him keep going without interruption.

“We got to know some of the people who worked here over the years, like Charlie,” he continued, though his voice dropped a little as he tried to clear his throat. He took in a heavy breath but he struggled to find his words again.

“That sounds really nice, Bucky,” you said encouragingly and he nodded.

“Yeah, she uh, she used to love it, but we don’t– she doesn’t talk to me anymore,” he confessed, clenching at his jaw painfully and winging his hands in his lap.

You watched as he yanked and pulled on his fingers, a nervous habit you used to see in your father after he’d been in a near fatal car accident, a symptom of anxiety. Without giving yourself a second to back out, you reached into his lap and placed your hands over his until they stilled.

He froze, staring down at your hands and allowed you to pull his left from his right and carefully grasp it in your own hand, holding it tight and offering him a gentle smile. He exhaled, relieved, and squeezed your hand before he continued.

“I enlisted right out of high school,” Bucky said, pulling your hand to rest on his thigh as he ran his free hand over the back of your palm. “Bec was so pissed at me. Especially when they sent me overseas. But she still wrote, still answered my calls. Until I got hit by an IED and got my whole arm shredded.”

He pulled up part of his sleeve to reveal marred skin under the t-shirt he wore. It was faded, healed over the years, but still ridged, still mutilated by the blast. He sighed, pushing it back down like looking at it was even difficult for him. You squeezed his hand.

“I was home for a bit, just trying to heal,” he continued, “but once I was cleared by the doc’s, I wanted to go back. That was the last straw for my sister. She—she just couldn’t understand why I’d go back after that. She said she’d never speak to me again if I did and I tried to tell her that I had a duty, that I had friends who died in that blast and being over here was hell for me. It _was_ back then. But she didn’t understand. She still doesn’t and she held true to her word. She hasn’t spoken to me since I went back, not since I came home either. I’m out now and I still can’t get her to return my calls. She just cut me off completely.”

“Oh, Bucky,” you sighed, heart breaking as he bit on his lip, clearly trying to suppress a lump in his throat.

“I’m supposed to be going to her college graduation,” he said tensely, sniffling a bit. “She doesn’t know, but Mom’s been on me to fix things for years. I just… I don’t know how and I’m fucking terrified that she’s going to take one look at me and tell me to leave or turn her back to me or, I don’t know, ignore me completely. She’s my little sister and I miss her but I don’t know how to make her understand. I’m not sorry for going back. It’s what I needed to do but, I hate that I lost her because of it.”

It was silent for a moment and you watched as the clock opposite you turned on three in the morning. Bucky’s breaths were uneven beside you as he tried to pull himself together. Each passing moment you spent with him, you only wanted to learn more, wanted to ease him through his pain, to make him smile and laugh.

But there was a truth he needed to hear.

“I’m not sure she’ll ever understand, Bucky,” you said slowly and Bucky clenched his jaw. It was clearly something he’d been thinking about, though he didn’t want to admit it. You sighed, rubbing at his hand in slow circles. “I don’t think anyone but someone who has lived through what you have could understand wanting to go back. She clearly loves you and she was probably terrified for you. Sometimes, when someone you love puts themselves back into the heart of danger like that, it’s easier to shut down than deal with the possibility of losing them.”

Bucky nodded, taking in your words. You gave him the time he needed, letting him sit with the silence and the thoughts in his head until he was ready. You watched the gears turning, watched as he squeezed your hand in even intervals, and let out a steady breath.

“Sorry I’m such a bummer,” he said after a while, a tired laugh in his voice and he shook his head as you started to object. “I hate that I was relieved when our flight got canceled but I know I’ll have to find a way there regardless. I thought I’d spend tonight in this airport just sitting in my anxiety and thinking about all the ways I’ll disappoint her again, but then you spilled your coffee all over that pretentious asshole and you… you caught me by surprise, Y/n.”

He turned to you, his free hand snaking up to slide along your cheek, cupping the side of your face as his fingers danced in your hair. The way he was looking at you, with startling shades of blue and a sincerity you hadn’t known in a man in years, your stomach twisted and turned on itself in the best possible way. His eyes flickered down to your lips.

“It’s your turn,” you whispered, eyes drifting over to the game.

“Will you let me see you again?” he asked quietly without skipping a beat, not even bothering with the pieces on the board and you didn’t mind, not as he was leaning closer to you, his breath against your skin.

His lips touched yours and it was sweet and short so impossibly brief because suddenly the overhead speakers let out a sharp, high-pitched chime as the transmitter turned on. You jumped at the shock of it and Bucky pulled away, the spell broken and the ghost of his lips aching on your own.

“ _Attention passengers flying from Charlotte to Atlanta on flight 937,_ ” the voice called in muffled tone, “ _Please see an agent at Gate B9. Your flight is now scheduled to depart at 3:50am_.”

You sunk against the wall and Bucky fiddled nervously with his hands.

“That’s your flight, isn’t it?” he asked, disappointed and you nodded. He sighed, hulling himself back up to his feet and offering you his hand. “We better get you over there in time, then.”

You looked up at him for a moment and contemplated just skipping the flight to spend a few more hours with him. Was it insane? Naïve? Maybe. But he was unlike anyone else you’d ever met and you didn’t think you could stand this being the last time you saw him.

“Come on,” he smiled sweetly, though it didn’t reach his eyes, “I’ll walk you to your gate and everything, be a proper gentleman since you’d been so gracious tonight before I send you off–”

“ _Attention passengers flying from Charlotte to Atlanta on flight 1176_ ,” the voice spoke again and Bucky froze, “ _please see an agent at Gate C2. Your new flight is now scheduled to depart at 3:30am_.”

“Shit,” he cursed, glancing down at his watch to find it was already nearing 3:20. He clenched his jaw, looking down at you apologetically. “I… I have to go.”

You took his hand and he helped you back up to your feet, though he didn’t let go right away. He stared at you for a moment, longingly, like leaving right now was the last thing he wanted to do. It was the last thing you wanted, too.

You walked with him, hand in hand, to the side of the gateway with your bags. He stuffed the snacks into the plastic bag and handed them to you, though you tried to resist, but he shoved them into your backpack with a smile anyway.

“Take the skittles, at least,” you tried to persuade him, “you picked those out.”

“I can’t stand ‘em, actually,” he chuckled sadly, shaking his head. “I always got them for Bec. Guess I was a little stuck in routine.”

“So, take them with you,” you encouraged, kneeling down next to him and pulling the red bag from your luggage and placing it in his hands. He stared down at it for a moment, tensely. He didn’t meet your eye but you carefully rubbed at his shoulder until the tension drained. “Bring them for her. Call it a peace offering.”

Bucky smiled sadly, but he nodded, the appreciation clear in his eyes as he rose back to his feet and offered you his hand, which you took effortlessly.

“How did I manage to find you?” he asked so quietly so you almost didn’t hear it. He was watching you with a kind of bewilderment in his eye and your cheeks began to flush, until you noticed the clock affixed to the wall over his shoulder. Your heart sank.

“You should get going, Bucky. You’ll miss it,” you said, trying to mask the sadness in your voice though it did little use.

“Yeah,” he replied. He didn’t move.

The two of you stood there for a few moments, just staring at one another, wishing the night didn’t have to end. But you had a wedding to attend. And he had a graduation.

“Bucky,” you urged again, squeezing his hand.

He nodded, detangling your fingers with a new kind of determination. He reached into his bag and dug around for a pen and paper. Scribbling messy handwriting on the notepad, he ripped off a page and handed it to you.

“Take this, please,” he said, and you grasped the crumpled paper in your hand. A series of numbers listed on one side in thick black ink. “You don’t have to do anything with it if you don’t want, but I hope you do. I hope you call.”

You nodded, running your thumb along the dried ink before you met his eye again; blue unlike even the clearest morning sky.

“I have to run,” Bucky said sadly as he started to back away. “Thanks for putting up with me for a while.”

“Thanks for asking me to,” you called back, watching as he walked backwards as long as he could until he checked his watch again and grimaced at the time.

He wanted to say more, that much you could tell, but there wasn’t time. He gave you one last wave and turned on his heels, sprinting down the terminal and taking a sharp left. You watched until he disappeared from view and you were alone in the gateway, surrounded by his memories and a new one of your own.

The crumpled paper stayed firm in your grasp the entire walk to your newly assigned gate, your mind caught on Bucky with every step. Even as you boarded, as you sat in your seat and closed the window shade, leaning against the wall in an attempt to find rest, the paper never left the grip of your hand.

A crumpled paper with a number of a stranger. A friend. Maybe something more if you let yourself believe it.

It was exciting and terrifying and magical at once.

You slipped the paper into your pocket as the plane left the runway and lifted into the air, whirring sounds of the engines and cabin pressure lulling you to sleep.

You thought only of Bucky; of blue eyes and nervous laughs, of cartwheels and potato chips, of painful questions and reassurance unlike you’d had in years, of rosy cheeks and soft pink lips.

You weren’t sure you’d ever think of anyone else again.

* * *

_How does it start?  
And when does it end?  
Only been here for a moment, but I know I want you  
But is it too soon?  
To know that I’m with you  
There’s nothing I can do  
[[I’m With You - Vance Joy](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Fuser%2F1260100621%2Fplaylist%2F4bpbwenEkxDaERiHE4hfhE%3Fsi%3Dwo2VraWRTN2dNn7kq5QMew&t=MDU5OTU2MTc3YzViOTYwNDQ2ODMwZTQ0N2U2NDYyNDNlN2QwMTljMCxCUjlEb3A0TA%3D%3D&b=t%3AajfEtkD74ZzgwdSgjg-gtw&p=https%3A%2F%2Fwkemeup.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F189258416367%2Fim-with-you-13&m=1)]_


	2. The Wedding

You sat at the far corner of the bar, tucked behind a post and a sudden influx of men you recognized from your college years enough to turn your back and hide your face into your second glass of bourbon.

The bartender eyed you carefully, raising an eyebrow as you neared the end of your drink but you shook your head. You were drinking too much too fast for a woman alone at a wedding and you figured you should have enough wits about you to look after yourself, at least.

Knee bouncing in a nervous twitch with your heel wrapped around the footrest of the barstool, you let out a tired huff. The ceremony hadn’t even started yet and you were already losing it. Without a single other person around you could cling onto for sanity, you were left alone to face the wedding of your ex-boyfriend, Jack; your longest, most serious relationship. Actually, your only relationship.

_Shit._

You took another sip.

The rowdy group of guys beside you were hollering amongst one another and you could spot one staring at you with a hungry kind of look that made your stomach turn. You reached into your bag, hoping to distract yourself with your phone when your fingers touched crumpled paper.

You pulled it out slowly, examining the series of numbers scribbled in black ink you’d been handed at three in the morning by the handsome stranger who’d turned a near overnight in the Charlotte airport into an adventure filled with coffee, cartwheels, snacks, checkers, and intimate questions you never would have answered if it wasn’t for the genuine curve of his smile and the kindness in the blue of his eyes.

Bucky.

You swallowed nervously, running a thumb over the letters. It hadn’t even been a full twenty-four hours since you’d seen him and you were already thinking of calling. You sighed, groaning, never having felt more pathetic in your life. Until, Marci Jacobs walked into the room and somehow, you felt even worse.

Marci was a friend of Jack’s from school. She never liked you in all the three years you’d been with Jack and she made no effort to hide her dislike of you. She spotted you from across the room and with a smirk upon her face, she made her way towards you, despite your best efforts to sink into yourself and disappear completely.

“Y/n!” she cheered, voice shrill and fake as she attempted to hug you. You let her, awkwardly, though you remained incredibly stiff. She didn’t seem to notice or care. “We didn’t think you’d make it with the storm!”

“Yep,” you nodded, eyes darting to the floor. “Got a last-minute flight this morning around three.”

“Good, good,” she replied, though she was looking over your shoulder, like she was waiting for someone. “So… are you here alone?”

There it was. The reason she came over to you. There always had to be something with Marci, a reason for her to berate you.

You sighed, nodding and gesturing to the clearly empty seats around you. She smiled.

“Shame,” she shrugged, though she didn’t look the least upset about it. “Anyway, I’ll see you at the ceremony. I’m sure you’re looking forward to seeing Jack again. Oh! And the bouquet toss, since you’re _clearly_ available.”

You clenched your jaw, forcing out a nod and a tight smile though it took all of your effort. The moment she turned her back to you and made her way out of the bar, you exhaled a massive breath of relief. Clinging to the crumpled paper in your hand you had hidden in the palm of your grip, you pull out your phone.

You didn’t know what the hell you were thinking attending this wedding; surrounding by Jack and his friends, alone, and the prime target for every joke. But you couldn’t leave now, not now that Marci had seen you and was likely on her way to inform Jack that you’d arrived so they could have a good laugh about it together. A lump burned in your throat just thinking of it.

Before your nerve could get the better of you, you typed the numbers into your phone and brought it to your ear. Each ring echoed in your chest and your heart thumped a decibel louder. Your hand was practically shaking, waiting.

Did you want him to answer? Was it worse if he didn’t?

You nearly hung up the phone before you could find out when a scruffy voice came through the speaker, tired, confused, and your heart froze.

“Hello?” he called, like he’d just woken up.

You parted your lips to respond, but nothing came out.

“Anyone there?” he asked slowly and you were sure he could hear the patrons in the bar, the music playing low over the speakers, and the clinking of glasses as the bartender stacked them on the shelf beside you.

“Hey Bucky,” you finally choked out, cursing yourself at how pathetic you already felt. There went the whole three-day-rule you had always told yourself you didn’t believe in anyway, but now that you were the one calling less than twenty-four hours later, you felt like an idiot.

An exhale that hinted at relief came through his end of the phone and you could hear him shuffling around, like he was tossing blankets off of him and sitting up on a squeaking bed.

“Hey Y/n, I didn’t—” he chuckled and you could practically picture him running his fingers through his hair, “I didn’t think you’d call so soon,” you winced at that, “but I’m glad you did.”

Okay. That’s interesting.

“You are?” you asked nervously, playing with the edge of your glass, swirling the leftover amber liquid on the bottom.

“I was actually kicking myself over not getting your number,” he said, smile in his voice. “I kept thinking when I boarded my plane that I wanted to text you and tell you to have a safe flight and to text me when you land because – I don’t know – that’s something people do for one another these days and I thought you might think it was kind of sweet or something but I never got your number and I realized I’d have to wait for you to reach out and… I’ll tell ya, Y/n, I was nervous you might not ever call and—” he paused suddenly and a tight breath brushed over the speakers, “I’m rambling like a complete idiot. You must think I’m insane.”

“I already kind of thought you were insane, Bucky,” you laughed, cheeks aching from how wide you were smiling and as his nervous chuckle came through the speakers, you relaxed instantly. “But you’re right, I would have thought it was sweet. Maybe you can do that when I fly home?”

“Yeah,” he replied, “yeah, doll, I absolutely will.”

You bit on your lip, trying to hold back the smile to keep it sacred from the guy who had been eyeing you across the bar earlier. He narrowed his gaze on you and you remembered why you’d called Bucky in the first place.

“Hey, so, um,” you started awkwardly, “are you doing anything today?”

“If wasting away in a hotel room counts as doing something, then sorry, doll, I’m all booked,” he teased, already drawing another smile out of you. “Bec’s graduation is tomorrow. Got today to psych myself up.”

Your heart sank.

“Oh! Oh, okay, yeah that makes sense,” you mumbled, clenching your hand around the glass so tight you thought you might break it.

“Why? What’s going on?” Bucky asked sweetly and you couldn’t help the twist in your stomach. He was too kind, too perfect. You’d never stand a chance with him in real life. Whatever you thought you had with him should have just stayed in the airport at midnight where it belonged.

“It’s—It’s nothing. I don’t want to interrupt your plans.”

“Trust me, doll, I’d rather do just about anything else than spend the whole day ruminating over how freaked out I am about tomorrow.”

You shook your head, suddenly feeling so incredibly stupid for reaching out to him now that it was real. It would be worse than showing up alone. Being with a guy you barely met a day ago who was so clearly out of your league… it would be a field day for Marci and you didn’t even want to think of how Jack would react.

“You’re at that wedding, aren’t you?” Bucky asked gently, carefully, like he knew your heart was breaking on the other end of the phone, even when you didn’t respond. “Where’s it at? I’ll come to you.”

“Don’t—Don’t worry about it, Buck. I’m—I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have bothered you with this,” you said quickly, choking on the lump in your throat and trying to avoid the stares of the guy across the bar.

A woman rushed into the room and circled her hand above her head, signaling it was time to gather for the ceremony.

“Y/n, you’re not bothering me, doll,” Bucky insisted, rushed tone because he could hear you shuffling your things together. “Please, just tell me where you are and I’ll be there.”

“I have to go,” you stammered out and even as Bucky tried to object, calling your name as you pulled the phone away from your ear, you hung up.

It was for the best, you told yourself. Bucky couldn’t possibly want you amongst a sea of beautiful women in cocktail dresses and you didn’t think you could handle the look on Jack’s face when he sees just how out of your depth you are. He’d never come out and say it but he’d find ways to chip at your heart, something subtle enough to say in front of a crowd that could still manage to break away your self-esteem. It was a special talent of his.

So, you followed the crowd into the cathedral with bourbon on your breath and wondering how a bar managed to operate next door to a church. Though, you realized, both were places of refuge, weren’t they?

***

The ceremony didn’t start for nearly thirty minutes after the entire guest list had been seated. You sat in the last pew on the right side, tucked away so far back you hoped Jack wouldn’t be able to see you. He stood at the altar, dressed in a black suit with light pink flowers pinned to his lapel as he chatted with his friends standing to his left. He didn’t seem bothered in the slightest by the late arrival of his bride.

When the music finally did start, Marci was the first one down the aisle, followed by four more of the bride’s friends. The dresses were stunning, with a blush sheen and a silk texture, they all looked like models off of a runway. You glanced down at your burgundy dress. It cinched at the waist and flowed gently down to the mid of your thighs and you had thought it was decent enough until you saw these women walk by.

Then, came the bride, Lena, with long blonde waves flowing down her back and braids circling her head in a crown, adorned with flowers and a vail that swept over her exposed back and carried for yards behind her in the aisle. Her dress was unlike anything you’d seen and looked like it was hand made for her. She was perfect. She was exceptional. You understood what Jack meant by ‘better options.’

Some shuffling on your left suddenly grabbed your attention as the minister greeted the guests, and you turned to find the other members of your pew grumbling. You narrowed your eyes, trying to find the source of their irritation when a familiar voice whispered beside you, “so, what I miss?”

You turned sharply to your right to where the voice had spoken in your ear to find Bucky grinning wildly at you, albeit a little out of breath as he rested against the pew ahead of him for support. Your jaw dropped, looking him over to find him in a light blue suit that somehow managed to make his eyes stand out more than they already did. A bead of sweat dripped from his brow and his quickly wiped it away.

“W-What are you doing here?”

“Attending a wedding. What are _you_ doing here?” he replied cheekily, taking a seat as the minister instructed. He tugged on your hand to sit down next to him when you didn’t budge, still in shock, not noticing you were the only one still standing. Your face flushed a red as your dress.

“How did you— How did you even find it?” you whispered, grimacing as an older gentleman in the pew ahead of you turned around to glare in your direction.

“It’s the third one I’ve been to today,” Bucky said into your ear, so impossibly close you could feel the warm of his breath against your skin. You shivered as he continued. “Once I picked up a suit from my buddy Steve, I just had to check the papers. Turns out, there’s seven couples getting married in Atlanta today. Got lucky on number three.”

You nodded, understanding the logic of it but at a loss as to why he was sitting next to you. He must have picked up on your confusion and he smiled sweetly at you.

“You sounded upset on the phone,” he said softly as the guests recited a psalm together in unison. He leaned closer so you could hear him. “I didn’t want you to be alone through this. I know it might not feel like it, but you made a world of difference for me last night. I wanted to return the favor. Make something painful a little easier.”

Bucky sighed, standing up with the crowd, and pulling you up by your hand again because you were simply too lost in anything else but him to notice. He smiled at that, nudging your shoulder and leaning in again.

“Plus, I like you,” he said causally and your heart nearly stopped completely, “I wanted to see you again and if I could make a good second impression _and_ be in a suit, I wasn’t going to let that opportunity pass me by. Besides,” he eyed you carefully, smile tugging at his cheeks, “you look beautiful.”

You blushed and Bucky’s smile only widened. You weren’t even sure how that was possible.

“That dress is a good color on you, doll. It matches your cheeks now,” he teased and you swatted at his arm, mumbling at him to _‘shut up’_ and he chuckled, biting down on his lip when the man in front of you turned to scold you again. Bucky muttered a quick apology and you pressed your face into his shoulder to keep yourself from bursting out into laughter.

The entire ceremony, Bucky managed to keep a smile on your face, whispering teasing comments into your ear and making fun of the bride’s father who sat with his arms crossed over his chest, red faced, the entire time. You thought you might actually survive this up until the moment the minister requested for Jack and Lena to recite their vows.

Jack pulled out a piece of paper from his jacket and your breath hitched in your throat.

_He wrote his own vows?_

He couldn’t have been bothered to get you a card on Valentine’s Day or remember your birthday but he chose to _write his own vows?_

“I have loved you since the first day I saw you,” Jack started and you gripped tight to the pew ahead of you. “I remember the exact dress you were wearing because I’d never seen anyone more beautiful in my entire life.”

Your hand was shaking and even as Bucky noticed, trying to sooth you with a cautious hand laying on top of yours, you could feel the lump burning in your throat.

“It was spring. The flowers were blooming on the cherry blossoms by the library on campus. You were walking out of your econ class carrying four different books and struggling just to see above the bindings. I knew in that instant, you’d be my whole world. Nothing else mattered to me in that moment. It all just faded away.”

You froze, breath caught in your throat. No, no that couldn’t be. He’d broken up with you right after graduation. The way he described his first-time seeing Lena, like it had happened in your last semester at school.

‘It all just faded away _._ ’ _You_ faded away.

He had already found his better option before he even left you.

Oh, God.

Tears were in your eyes before you could stop them. You could only vaguely hear Bucky whispering gently in your ear, his hand running soothingly along your arm, but none of it was registering, not as Jack looked so loving into Lena’s eyes, describing in painful detail the moment he decided to throw you away.

You clenched your hands into fists, digging your nails into your palms as your breaths started to come in with short gasps. Ignoring Bucky’s attempts to calm you, you pushed your way through the aisle, legs shaking and numb and disregarding the disgruntled comments of the guests you squeezed past. You didn’t even spend a second out in the open before you darted out into the back alcove of the church, away from prying eyes in an enclosed room likely meant to hide the bride before the ceremony began.

You stumbled around, trying to find something to ground yourself with but nothing was working. You were feeling light-headed up until the moment two hands grasped onto your arms and you were met with ocean blue eyes.

“Hey, doll, you’re alright,” Bucky whispered, brushing a fallen hair away from your face and letting his free hand slide down your arm until he took a firm hold of your own, guiding it up to his chest and setting it over his heart. “Breathe with me now. In. Out. Good, Y/n. You’re doing so well. Come on now, keep going.”

You nodded, following his instructions and trying to push past the dizziness in your head and the throbbing ache in your chest. He’d done this before, that much you could gather. He was a soldier; he’d mentioned that in the airport. You wondered if he ever got panic attacks like this and you winced at the thought, of even comparing your heartbreak over an ex who didn’t even treat you well to whatever horrors he’d faced overseas.

Bucky’s hand didn’t leave yours as it sat on his chest. His hands were much larger than yours, covering the whole of your palm, and he smiled gently at you the whole time. As your breathing came back down, he whispered praises, told you how safe you were, that you were going to be alright, that he wouldn’t leave you.

How is it that you only met this man at an airport less than twenty-four hours ago?

Bucky pulled out a chair for you once your breathing was more even and helped you to sit down. You glanced up at him, wiping away the tears from your eyes, expecting to find something like pity or annoyance on his face but you were only met with kindness, of empathy, and concern.

“You alright?” he asked carefully.

You could hear the mics picking up Lena’s vows in the background. You clenched your jaw and you nodded, trying to convince him and yourself that you were, but the lump choked you again and the tears came right back.

“I think he cheated on me,” you gasped out and Bucky’s smile fell instantly. “His—His vows. We were still together until after graduation. But he met her b-before and he kept saying nothing else mattered and—and that—that was _me,_ Bucky, _I_ didn’t matter—”

A sob choked its way through you and Bucky darted forward, gathering you in his arms and holding you tight to his chest. You clung onto him like he was your only tether to this earth, crying tears into the lapel of his blue suit as he rubbed his hand in gentle circles over the bare of your back between the straps of your dress.

“You matter, Y/n,” Bucky soothed, repeating it again and again like a mantra, “you matter, okay? Jack is an asshole and an even shitter boyfriend and you deserve so much more than that, do you hear me? You’re incredible and selfless and funny and so fucking beautiful it makes my stomach twist all up in knots just lookin’ at ya. You are the _best_ option, remember? Y/n, I need you to hear me on this.”

“I hear you,” you mumbled into his jacket, though you didn’t quite believe it, not with Jack standing up there proclaiming his love for the woman he left you for.

“Let’s get out of here,” Bucky said, pushing you back from his embrace just enough to get a good look at your face. Your cheeks were rosy and eyes red with tears, and you were certain half of your makeup was down your face, but Bucky didn’t even flinch. He reached forward and brushed his thumb ever so slightly under your eye, wiping away a trail of mascara and tears. “We don’t have to stay, Y/n. We can leave now and go do something fun. Screw Jack _and_ this stupid wedding.”

You laughed despite yourself, but you shook your head. “If I leave now, I’ll never live it down. I can’t be the ex that ran out of the ceremony and deserted the reception. Especially since Jack knows I’m here and Marci will tell every goddamn person at this wedding how pathetic I am.”

“Who gives a shit what those people think?” Bucky shrugged, trying to draw a smile out of you, but your jaw was clenched shut. He sighed. “You give a shit, don’t you?”

“I wish I didn’t,” you replied defeatedly, eyes darting to the floor and shame seeping into your features.

“Okay,” Bucky nodded, tucking a flyaway hair behind your ear and then gently rubbing at the mascara stains on your cheek, “guess we better make the most of it, huh?”

He offered you his hand and you took it gratefully. The two of you started to make your way back into the church when suddenly the door to your secluded room swung open and Marci was standing in the frame. She narrowed her eyes, clearly not expecting to find you here.

“What are you doing?” she snipped, though her voice was light and airy, “the ceremony just ended. Jack and Lena are outside greeting the guests.”

Her eyes fell on Bucky then and she softened immediately. Of course, she did. She was the type of effortlessly stunning you expected Bucky to want but as she trailed her gaze down his body, you felt him stiffen next to you. The moment she caught sight of your hand encased in his, she clenched her jaw.

“Sorry, who are you?” she asked Bucky, stepping closer to him and ignoring your presence completely.

Your lips parted, trying to come up with an excuse because she had seen you at the bar, she’d known you’d been here alone, but you couldn’t form a single strand of words. Thankfully, Bucky was quicker on his feet than you and he darted his free hand out for her to shake.

“Bucky, the boyfriend,” he said casually and your heart stopped. _Boyfriend?_ “I flew in last minute to surprise my girl, but don’t fret, you can tell the happy couple I plan to steer clear of the food and drinks so they don’t have to worry about paying extra for my crashing.”

He pulled you tighter to his side, arm draping over your shoulders and a giddy smile on his face as he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head like it was nothing. Marci didn’t seem convinced, only that was probably more due to the fact that it was _you_ Bucky was talking about and not because he wasn’t a convincing liar. You were pretty convinced for a moment yourself. 

“Right,” Marci drawled, reaching to the desk to pick up the marriage certificates, “I guess I’ll see you at the reception. Jack is so looking forward to seeing you, Y/n.”

You nodded, though your hand balled into a fist. In any other tone, maybe her parting words could have sounded like a warm invitation, but to you, they were a threat.

The moment she disappeared out the door and you were alone again, Bucky let out an exasperated sigh.

“She’s… something else,” he grunted. “We should get going if we want to make it to cocktail hour before all the shrimp are gone.”

“Thought you weren’t going to eat?” you chuckled under your breath, the tension fading from your muscles and Bucky must have felt it because his hand snaked back down your arm and into your own.

“Never said I wouldn’t steal one or two off your plate,” he grinned back, leading you to the door and away from your brief sanctuary. You didn’t feel as afraid stepping out of this room when you had Bucky’s hand encased in your own.

***

You didn’t know how you would have survived if it wasn’t for Bucky at your side. The entire cocktail hour, guests gathered in the luxurious ballroom halls, standing around high-top tables with tiny appetizers and mingling amongst themselves. Some were old friends from college, others were extended family you recognized from your time with Jack. They all sent incredibly unsubtle glances in your direction as they whispered to one another.

“The shrimp are overcooked,” Bucky grumbled, though you knew full well they were cooked to perfection and he was just trying to make you feel better. “You sure you don’t want to skip this joint and go to that ice cream shop I was telling you about? I hear it’s incredible. I’m tellin’ ya, doll.”

“I’m sure, Bucky,” you said with a soft smile, though as you watched him press his lips into a thin line and nod, your stomach ached a little. “You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. I’ll be—I’ll be fine on my own.”

“What? No way,” Bucky shook his head as he grabbed another plate of shrimp from a waiter as he passed by. “I’m not going anywhere. Just wanted to give you an out if you needed it. I love weddings, even if they’re for cheating, asshole ex boyfriends. You should see me on the dance floor. You’ll regret ever knowing me.”

“I don’t think that’s possible,” you mumbled under your breath as Bucky took another bite of shrimp. He smiled at you and you weren’t sure if he’d heard you or not, but your heart was swelling to five times its size and you were certain you’d be devastated when the night ended.

The waiters began to guide the guests to the main ballroom and you shuffled in behind Bucky, holding tight to his hand as he led you to where your name plate was listed. As you came up on the table, you realized there wouldn’t be a seat for him.

He noticed too, but he didn’t say a word as he sank down into your chair, and patted his thigh. You froze, narrowing your eyes on him as a heat burned in your face but he started to chuckle, waving you off before he stood and offered you the chair.

“Only joking, Y/n,” he smiled sweetly as you sat down. He crouched next to you, as not to obstruct the view of the incoming wedding party from the guests behind him.

As the announced the bridesmaids and groomsmen, even as Marci came dancing out from behind the double doors, you managed to keep your composure. That was, until Jack and Lena were announced and they sauntered out into the ballroom to enthusiastic applause, smiling widely at one another and so clearly in love it made your stomach twist into painful knots.

You weren’t in love with Jack. That was never the issue, though you wondered if that was what Bucky thought as he watched you carefully as Jack and Lena prepared for their first dance as a married couple, the song echoing through the speakers one on a playlist you had made him for his twenty-first birthday.

No, you didn’t love Jack, not anymore, but you wondered constantly why he never seemed to love you. He certainly couldn’t have then if he left you so easily and you hadn’t even known at the time it was for another woman.

He had said he wanted to look at better options but you always thought it was hypothetical. You didn’t realize he had already found someone else, someone _better_. You wondered if you were broken; wondered why the one man you’d ever loved, ever given yourself over to wholly, could leave you like you had meant nothing to him.

That was why watching him with Lena was so painful. He was capable of great love and kindness and compassion, but he’d never looked at you with even an ounce of the way he looked at her.

You must have been gripping the edge of the chair tight enough for your muscles to twitch because Bucky’s hand gently sat over yours. He turned to you with a sad kind of smile and that sweet look in his eyes and you wondered if maybe he would find someone better than you, too.

The dance ended and the crowd erupted into applause; the happy couple beaming and thanking their guests as the DJ started to play upbeat music. You watched at Jack led Lena to the head table, offering her to pull out her chair and you rolled your eyes.

“Alright, let’s go,” Bucky huffed, jumping back up to his feet and holding out his hand. You narrowed your eyes, lips pursing.

“What are you—”

“Time to dance, doll. Let’s go,” he said again, prying your hand away from the back of the chair when you refused to budge and started to tug you to the clearly empty dance floor. He yanked you enough to get you on your feet and you were already panicking.

“Bucky! No! This is—this is a bad idea,” you whispered frantically as Bucky dragged you to the center of the dance floor and you darted your head around the room looking for people to laugh and point but no one was playing attention, certainly not as Bucky started to sway his hips and several couples came up to the dance floor to join you.

“It only takes a few people to get the party started,” Bucky shrugged, gesturing to the now packed dance floor as he danced along to the beat, though you remained completely still. He grunted, grabbing onto your shoulders and forcibly moving you in a swaying motion until you started to laugh and he grinned, letting you go as you danced on your own.

***

You didn’t leave the dance floor for nearly an hour, shouting out the lyrics to songs you didn’t even know you had memorized until sweat beaded on your forehead and you forgot who’s wedding you were at in the first place. Bucky was infectious, in every sense of the term; his joy, his laugh, his smile, his overwhelming selflessness. He dropped everything the moment he sensed you were upset and he barely even knew you. What would he do if he’d known you for days? Months? Years?

As he laughed at himself for nearly tripping over his own foot as he spun you around, you wondered if maybe there was something more beyond the stranger who approached you in the airport earlier that morning.

That was, until the DJ announced he was going to “cool things down” and the upbeat music faded into acoustic guitar and slow melodies.

You stumbled slightly in your stance, looking around awkwardly to the couples as they held onto their loved ones, others retreating back to their seats with tired groans. You started to back away to save yourself from the embarrassment of it all, but then, Bucky’s hand latched onto yours.

You turned back to him with wide eyes and you were only met with that beaming grin of his as he pulled you hard enough to come crashing back against his chest. Your hair flew into his face, hand gripping onto the lapel of his jacket for support.

He let out that laugh of his that made your stomach weak as his hand snaked around your waist, holding you still against him but giving you the leeway to move if you wanted to escape. His free hand gently pushed the hair away from your face as he started to sway softly, guiding you along with him and you were sure your breath was locked in your lungs.

“Don’t tell me you were gonna abandon me, doll?”

You chewed on your lip, looking just about anywhere but his eyes. “I don’t usually… um… slow dance.”

“What? _Jack_ never dance with you?” Bucky teased, though you could hear the hint of bitterness behind his voice as he stole a glance over at the head table. When you didn’t respond because you simply couldn’t stand the humiliation of admitting he was right, Bucky clenched his jaw tightly, muscle twitching in the effort. His smile was tense now, though he tried to push aside his anger. “Well screw him. I’m dancing with you, ain’t I? And you’re wonderful at it. Poor sucker doesn’t even know what he’s missing.”

You smiled sadly at him as his fingers rubbed careful patterns into the small of your back, encouragingly, reassuringly, and you rested your cheek on his shoulder. The action must have surprised him because you felt his breath hitch, though he relaxed just as quickly, humming along to the song. Off key and still like honey, like the moments before you met him.

You didn’t know how long you stayed like that, swaying gently with him until you unclasped your right hand from his left and wrapped both arms around his neck, his at your waist. Two, three songs passed by and you held him close, listening to the soft brushes of his breath and the fluttering of his heartbeat.

Leaning back slightly because you simply had to know what was going on in his head, you were met with startling blue eyes, though softened and longing for something you couldn’t quite believe. He swallowed, eyes flickering down at your lips.

“Bucky,” you whispered his name, unsure of what you even wanted to say when he was looking at you like that. Your heart was pounding in your chest, thunderous and exhilarated, as he leaned in closer. His breath ghosted against your lips and you swore the entirety of time stopped in that instant, up until the moment a disgruntled cough beside you pulled you both from your daze.

You both flinched at the sound as the elderly woman coughed again, turning to face her as she scowled in your direction before she smiled sweetly at Bucky. She was carrying a handkerchief in her hand, patched of bright red lipstick on the white cloth.

“You looked like a strong young man,” she started and Bucky sent you a glance that made you chuckle, biting on your lip to suppress it before the woman could notice. “My nephew needs some assistance in carrying some of the alcohol barrels from the truck.”

“Kegs?” Bucky asked with a light laugh and she nodded.

“Won’t you be a dear? I’m sure your date won’t mind,” she said, shaking her handkerchief in your direction though she didn’t spare you a glance. You supposed it was something to get used to around Bucky; women of all ages fawning over him, if you ever got the chance to even try to get used to it.

Bucky clenched his jaw, exhaling a tight breath from his nose. “Ma’am, I would, but I’d rather not leave my–”

“Go,” you offered, stepping back from him and pulling away his hands from your waist. He frowned, smile falling instantly but you brushed your hand over his cheek, drawing it back almost instantly. “I’ll be fine, Buck. Go. You won’t be long.”

He nodded and the elderly woman grinned, exposing yellowed teeth with lipstick stains mixed in.

“Be back the second I can,” he promised, grabbing your hand on his cheek and pulling it to his lips, kissing at the knuckles chastely and you were sure your heart stopped beating entirely. He stepped back, offering his arm to the woman as she walked him in the direction of her nephew, leaving you alone on the dance floor surrounded by couples.

Taking a deep breath, you decided to get some air. Without Bucky by your side, the room felt incredibly lonely again and you found yourself searching for a glass of bourbon. Quickly grabbing one from the bartender and making your way outside past the double doors to the back patio, a fresh wave of air hit you and you relaxed instantly.

You looked out to the skyline of the city and sun setting in the distance and flourish colors painting the sky. It was a wonder you stumbled upon something so beautiful. You took a sip of the bourbon, hoping Bucky would find you again before the sun disappeared behind the buildings because you hated the thought of him missing something as incredible as this.

Leaning against the railings, you took a moment to get lost in the sunset. But then, a few minutes later, a hand settled on your shoulder that made your heart jump enough to nearly drop your glass onto the patio floor.

You shrieked, hand clutching to your heart as you steadied the glass in your hand to find Jack holding his hands up defensively at his sides. Your eyes went wide, jaw clenching, and you cursed yourself for even thinking you could get through this wedding without ever having to talk to him.

“It’s good to see you, Y/n,” Jack grinned, eyes falling up and down your figure and you found yourself crossing your arms over your chest, keeping your glass close to your lips because you’d surely need another sip soon. He smirked though his eyes were cold. “You look good.”

“You, too,” you said awkwardly, looking around at the scenery to avoid his eyes. “Congratulations, by the way. Lena is stunning.”

Jack nodded, hands slipping into his pockets as he glanced back into the reception area. “Yeah, she is, isn’t she?”

You swallowed nervously, tapping your foot and silently begging Bucky to find you before you made a complete fool of yourself.

Jack took a step closer to you, staring down at you from his height like a hawk stalking prey. You realized then, that he always made you feel owned, powerless. He didn’t love you in the way you thought he did, the way you so naively thought he was capable of. It wasn’t until you met Bucky that you got even a glimpse of what it felt like to truly be wanted, to be enjoyed, and you’d only known him for a day. He taught you more about what it meant to love someone than Jack did in three years.

“I didn’t think you’d come, actually,” Jack said with a shrug, “after how badly you took the breakup and all.”

You clenched your jaw so tight your muscles ached within seconds. You remembered that day well; with the tears streaming down your face and his cold, hard demeanor as he watched you beg him to stay without an ounce of remorse. You never thought you’d survive that night, but you had, and you did, and you still were, and maybe you were finding a way to forget it.

“I saw you run out of the ceremony, you know,” he said slowly, his hand pushing out to run along your arm and you shivered involuntarily, both revolted by his touch and unable to walk away. “I know you’re still in love with me, baby. It’s okay to admit it.”

You shook your head, “no, I—I’m–”

“You don’t have to lie to me, Y/n,” Jack purred, his hand snaking up into your hair and cupping your cheek. Your breaths were uneven, shaken, and you didn’t have the strength to pull away. Whether it was because of his lingering power over you or the fact that you were outside in the dark, alone with him that forced you still, you didn’t know.

“I’m not–”

“You don’t have to make up some fake boyfriend to get my attention.” Jack brushed his thumb over your mouth and you closed your eyes, unwilling to watch the way he licked at his own lips in the movement. “We both know that you won’t do better than me, baby. I was your best option. You’ll have to find a way to accept that I’ve found mine and… _it wasn’t you_.”

Your jaw was quivering. He had you exactly where you were three years ago. Lost. Insecure. Broken. The amber liquid in your glass was rippling as your hand trembled.

“There you are, sweetheart! I was looking everywhere for you,” Bucky’s voice carried out into the patio in rush of relief as you quickly stepped away from Jack’s hold on your face. Wearing a bright smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes, Bucky jogged out to meet you and tossed his arm around your waist, tugging you close enough to press a kiss to your cheek that drew a gasp from your lungs.

Jack narrowed his eyes suspiciously on Bucky. “You must be ‘the boyfriend.’” He wasn’t convinced.

“That’s me,” Bucky grinned, pulling you tighter against him, protectively. “Listen man, the ceremony was beautiful but I gotta apologize for sneaking out mid-way through.”

Your eyes widened, heart jumping, as Jack furrowed his brow. You had no idea where Bucky was going with this and you were terrified to find out. You tried stepping on his foot, pinching his side, but he pressed on, urged by the scowl Jack was sending in your direction.

“You know how it is when you see your girl all dolled up and you just can’t keep your hands off her,” Bucky shrugged casually and though you could tell it was an act, Jack couldn’t. He would have laughed it off it was any other woman, but it was you, and he certainly didn’t believe for a second that Bucky could feel that way about you.

“Church or not,” Bucky continued, “I just couldn’t keep myself together. Thought I was gonna lose it if I couldn’t have her right then. But I’m sure you remember how it is.”

Jack nodded tensely though he was lying through his teeth. He never wanted you in the way Bucky was describing and you could feel your heart breaking at the thought that no one ever would. Bucky was acting, playing the part he assigned for himself earlier in the evening when he was talking to Marci just to spare you from the humiliation of admitting how truly pathetic you were. He couldn’t possibly be serious, couldn’t actually want those things. Hell, he hardly knew you.

You had to remind yourself again and again that you’d only known Bucky a day and not a lifetime, because it sure as hell felt like an eternity.

“Have a nice night man and congrats,” Bucky said, voice a little flatter, harder. He looked over to the sunset and down to you as he softened. “I’m gonna spend some time with my girl now, if you don’t mind.”

“Yeah, okay,” Jack grumbled, stealing one last look at you before disappearing back into the ballroom.

The second Jack was out of sight, your whole body relaxed. You expected Bucky to jump away from you, shake his hands off awkwardly, but he didn’t budge. He kept his arm draped around your waist, glaring back in Jack’s direction as he mingled with guests beyond the double doors.

“Sorry about all that, doll,” Bucky sighed nervously. “I just saw him touching you like that and how uncomfortable you were and with the bullshit he was saying… I just had to do _something_.”

You nodded, though you couldn’t meet his eye. Bucky’s hand brushed up against your cheek in startling contrast to the way Jack had touched you, with such a tenderness that his fingertips just barely grazed against your skin. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to yours, closing his eyes and sighing gently.

“You’re worth so much more than what he says,” Bucky exhaled, holding you gingerly against him. He believed what he said, that much you could tell, but you couldn’t stop the thoughts racing in the back of your mind telling you that he was wrong, that he was naïve and making you out to be something you’re not, into a whirlwind fantasy of a girl he met in an airport at midnight. You couldn’t be that forever.

“Bucky, you don’t even know me,” you mumbled defeatedly and you could feel Bucky’s thumb brushing over your cheekbone, the clench in his own jaw at your words.

“You really believe that?” he whispered, his breath touching your lips. “You think it takes months or years to know how you feel about someone? I don’t need _time_ to know I like you, to know you’re a good person and you deserve someone who cares about you, not—not someone who’s going to spend years putting you down and making you feel like you don’t matter. _You matter_ , Y/n. You matter to me.”

Tears were welling in your eyes but you pushed them back. “You’ve only known me a day–”

“Then imagine how it’ll be in a week or a month, if you’ll let me stick around,” Bucky smiled, so incredibly sincere and it made your heart flutter. “I meant what I said. I had hoped you’d call. I was thinking I could take you out on a real date and show you this spot in Brooklyn I think you’d like in the park surrounded by flowers and this tiny little vender with the thickest Italian accent you’ll ever hear in your life.”

You laughed a bit at that before you realized and Bucky pressed his lips to your forehead, soft and warm and aching close.

“I never thought you’d call so soon, but believe me when I say I’m happy that you did,” Bucky continued, wrapping both of his arms around your shoulders as you tucked your face against his neck, inhaling the warmth of his scent. He sighed, adjusting his stance but not lessening his hold on you for anything. “I got to see you all dressed up and impress you with my best friend’s suit. Plus, did you see the look on Jack’s face? That asshole finally saw what he was missing out on.”

“That’s sweet, Bucky, but I think he’s just bitter he can’t control me the way he used to,” you shrugged, arms circling around his waist. Cheek pressed to his chest, you listened to the tender thumps of his heartbeat as you gazed out at the stunning array of colors lighting up the sky.

“Who cares what he thinks,” Bucky concluded and you could hear the soft laugh in his voice. He pulled you back after a moment, smiling at you and brushing the crease from your cheek earned from the fold of his lapel. “Can we get out of here now?”

“Yeah, I’m done putting myself through hell,” you nodded, taking his hand as he extended it to you, leading you back into the ballroom to escape through the front door.

You walked past Jack and Lena as they stood by the cake, ready to cut the first slice, and Jack’s eyes followed you across the ballroom as you trailed behind Bucky, narrowed and bitter. You only pursed your lips at him, the smile not reach your eyes as you gave a subtle wave and followed Bucky out the door.

Marci was lingering in the hallway and she parted her lips to say something but Bucky held up a hand, silencing her before she could speak.

“Sorry Mary, we’re heading out,” Bucky waved and her whole face scrunched up in anger as she grumbled her name under her breath. You burst into laughter as Bucky turned over his shoulder to wink at you as he threw open the double doors, leading you out into the cold, crisp air.

You might have expected for him to drop your hand the moment you were free from the lingering stares of Jack and Marci, but he didn’t. He held it firm in his own as he led you down the sidewalk, amongst the busy nightlife and under the blanket of dark blue freckled in stars.

A chill swept up your spine and Bucky only released your hand for a moment to shrug his jacket off his shoulders and swing it around yours.

“You don’t have to do that,” you said quickly, though the warmth of it and the smell of him flooding your senses make it incredibly difficult to object. Bucky shook his head, helping you slide your arms into the sleeves and though it draped loosely around you, he smiled like you were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

“I’ve got long sleeves _and_ pants, doll,” Bucky chuckled, grabbed your hand again and swinging it by his side as he kept pace, “and you have neither. I’m good.”

“Only if you’re sure,” you mumbled, snuggling into the jacket and leaning just a few inches closer to him with every step.

“Oh, I’m definitely sure. Might let you keep it and everything. Looks better on you than it ever did on me.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I thought you side this was your friend’s suit.”

“Steve won’t mind,” he shrugged with a grin. “The guy’s about twice his own size by now. He wore this back in his transition phase between being a twig and full-blown Adonis. I doubt he could fit into it these days.”

“It’s such a good color on you, Bucky, I’d hate to miss the opportunity to see you in it again,” you teased, surprised by the confidence in your own voice and for the first time, Bucky nearly choked on his own words.

“Yeah, well I guess you’ll have to return it to me next time, then.” He beamed at you and though it was dark and he was barely illuminated by the light of the streetlamps, you could see the slight flush in his cheeks.

You walked with Bucky nearly ten minutes before he pulled you to a slow stop in front of an ice-cream shop with stickers in the windows and two teenagers sitting on the counter, talking to one another with cell phones in their hands and bright red t-shirts displaying the name of the shop across the back.

“This was my plan in the event you wanted to ditch,” Bucky explained, pulling you up to the counter. “Google has it at 4.6 stars so it better be just-went-to-an-ex’s-wedding-and-he’s-still-a-huge-fucking-asshole _good._ ”

You laughed, shoving Bucky’s shoulder and the teenagers behind the counter must have caught onto your presence. One came jumping up to the counter with blonde hair thrown in a messy bun on the top of her head and rows of hair ties on her wrist. She grinned at Bucky before glancing back at her friend. You laughed under your breath, knowing this would just have to be something to get used to if Bucky was really going to stick around. You were working on believing him.

“I’ll take a Rocky Road, and,” he turned to you, “what do you want, doll?”

“Mint chocolate chip,” you answered, clinging onto his arm and watching excitedly as the girl in the back of the shop started to scoop.

It had been ages since you’d been to a small ice cream shop like this, run by local teenagers at absence hours and has probably been around for decades. There wasn’t even anywhere to sit but you figured it had to be good if it was still standing amongst all the hipster joints and cafes.

Bucky paid for the ice cream before you could even notice and he handed you your cone with a grin. You pouted at him and took the cone gratefully. It was cold on your teeth as you licked around the sides, but it was perfection. Definitely worth those 4.6 stars. Might even be fall-in-love-with-the-handsome-stranger-at-the-airport _good._

“Thank you,” you said as you went in for another scoop, lapping up the melting drips as it threatened to slip down your hand. Bucky watched you amusingly, chuckling sweetly as he gestured to a bench sitting facing a small park.

As you sat down, Bucky’s arm draped around your shoulders over the back of the bench. He settled in next to you and you found yourself scooting closer to him. You sat in silence together, just watching the birds at the played in the tiny fountain a few feet away and giggling as Bucky tried to avoid getting chocolate stains on his white shirt. You took your last bite and wiped the edges of your lips with your napkin, looking up to Bucky to find he had finished too.

“You have a bit of, um,” you laughed nervously as he furrowed his brow. Stretching up, you licked the edge of your thumb before you brought it to the corner of his lips, swiping at the chocolate on his cheek. Bucky bit his lip, face heating slightly as he watched you, though once the chocolate was gone, you made no effort to pull away.

“Thanks,” he sighed, like a plea in his voice giving you the courage you needed and you surged forward, capturing his lips in your own.

It didn’t take more than a second for Bucky to respond as your hands cupped at his cheeks, drawing him closer and his arms snaked around your waist. His lips were cold, tasting of chocolate and almonds that only intensified as he parted his lips further, his tongue sweeping at your own and you choked back a moan. His hands roamed around your hips, gentle and longing, and holding you as close as he could manage because even with your lower lip between his own, it wasn’t enough.

But then, the sharp ring of his phone echoed through the park, startling you enough to force you to jump back, panting, lips swollen in the kiss and Bucky groaned. He sent you an apologetic grimace as he glanced down at the caller ID, his whole body slumping as he lifted it to his ear.

“Hey ma,” Bucky answered, his voice already drained in the effort. “’Course I’ll be there. Why would you think I’d back out?… Does she know yet?… I’m trying my best here ma but I can’t guarantee she’ll–… No, you don’t understand I’m–… Yeah, okay. See you tomorrow.”

Bucky hung up the phone, a dejected look on his face as he slid it back into his pocket. “I really wish she would have chosen just about any other moment to call.”

You smiled, leaning forward to kiss his cheek and he started to relax a little.

“You helped me forget about tomorrow for a while,” he said, rubbing his hand over your thigh. “Don’t know the last time anyone was able to get me out of my own head. Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Buck,” you whispered sincerely. “You’re the one that crashed the wedding. You showed up all on your own. Didn’t even invite you or anything.”

Bucky laughed, drawing the crinkles by his eyes and the warm-hearted smile you adored. He sighed, letting out a heavy exhale before he spoke again, though he kept his gaze straight ahead. “Do you think—Is there any way you’d want to– Would you maybe–”

“Yes,” you answered quickly, not even having to take a second to think. He turned to you with wide eyes, surprised. “Yes, Bucky, I’ll go with you. You helped me through today, didn’t you? You made an unbearable situation… _fun_. I know it’s not the same and I know this is family and it’s fragile, but if you want some support, if you want someone to hold your hand and remind you that you’re incredibly selfless and strong and kind and that under it all, your sister still loves you, no matter what happens, I’m there.”

“You’d do that?” His voice was so small, insecure and lost and you wondered if that was how you sounded to him when you talked about Jack. Broken, hurting. It tore at your heart.

“Absolutely,” you replied, grabbed his hand and pulling him back to his feet. “Come on, now. It’s almost two in the morning. We should get you back to your place before the sun rises if you want to look presentable for this graduation.”

Bucky nodded, dragging his feet playfully as you tugged him towards the road, waving for a taxi. On your first try, a yellow cab pulled up by the curb and you winked at him. He shook his head in awe.

“I ever tell you how happy I am it was you I met in Charlotte?”

“You might have mentioned it,” you shrugged with a grin.

Bucky opened the door for you and gestured for you to slide in but you shook your head.

“My hotel’s right here, actually,” you said pointing to the building across the street. The cab driver started fussing the in the front and Bucky slipping a few dollars through his window just to wait. The was a slight panic in his face, like he wasn’t ready for the night to end so soon.

“Text me the address and when to meet you,” you said, grabbing his hand and playing with the lifelines on his palm. “I’ll be there, Bucky. I promise you aren’t alone in this. I’m with you.”

He nodded quickly, trying to convince himself. The seamless transitions between this flirty, teasing man with confidence unlike anything you’d ever seen and the shy, insecure guy with a guilt complex the size of Brooklyn was baffling to watch, but he was pieces of a whole. He was both at once.

You leaned up onto the tops of your toes and pressed a quick kiss to his lips; soft, chaste, and gone before he had the chance to deepen it. You smiled at him, gently shoving him down into the taxi as the cab driver started to grumble under his breath again.

“Tomorrow,” you promised and Bucky nodded. Kissing the back of your hand as you slowly pulled away.

“Tomorrow,” he agreed and let you close the door. You watched from your spot on the sidewalk as the taxi pulled out into the empty road and waited until it disappeared from view.

Once he was gone, you quickly made your way across the street to your hotel, giving a slight wave to the hostess behind the counter. In your room, you shrugged off Bucky’s jacket and hung it up on a hanger from the closet, pressing out the wrinkles and examining it for any drips of light green ice-cream. Then, you changed into your pajamas, wiped your face of makeup and climbed into fresh linen sheets.

To your left, your phone buzzed on the nightstand. You picked it up to find a single text.

**I’m with you, too.**

You held your phone to your chest, smiling so wide it ached in your cheeks. You fell asleep a few minutes later, the phone still clutched in your hand. Bucky’s light blue jacket hanging in the closet.

* * *

_To believe I walk alone_   
_Is a lie that I’ve been told_   
_So let your heart hold fast_   
_For this soon shall pass_   
_Like the high tide takes the sand  
_ _[[Let Your Heart Hold Fast – Fort Atlantic](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Fplaylist%2F4bpbwenEkxDaERiHE4hfhE%3Fsi%3Dj8ttGFZPQ4akQibpXaYm0g&t=YTU5NGNjODcxOWUwZmI5NjY5MjEwZjYyNDM0NTE5NWRlZDU2MzYyMyw0MG1kRXlyaA%3D%3D&b=t%3AajfEtkD74ZzgwdSgjg-gtw&p=https%3A%2F%2Fwkemeup.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F189412077122%2Fim-with-you-23&m=1)]_


	3. The Graduation

You lightly tapped on the edge of Bucky’s hotel room door with the toe of your shoe. Carrying two cups of steaming coffee in your hands and your bag tucked under your arm, your hands were completely full. He had texted you at nearly six-thirty in the morning and the vibration of your phone startled you into a panic in mirror with whatever was running through his mind as he all but begged you to meet at the hotel this morning instead of the venue, nearly two hours earlier than planned.

You could faintly hear him stumbling around from the other side of the door, a muffled thud quickly followed by a pained groan as he approached. A smile pushed at your cheeks as he started mumbling to himself, the knob of the door shaking as he tried to open it before remembering the deadbolt was still locked.

Bucky grunted and you chocked back a laugh, though it was quickly wiped from your face as the door swung open to reveal him standing in the frame; shirtless, hair disheveled and damp, bare chest panting and covered in sweat.

“Hey,” he muttered, stepping aside as you looked him down with wide eyes. “Thank God you’re here. I need your help.”

He didn’t seem bothered by his lack of clothing and you swallowed back the racing thumping in your chest, trying to relax your reaction before he could notice how flustered you were. Though, he wasn’t in the mindset to notice much of anything as he rushed around the room, throwing shirts out of the closet and onto the bed, which was already covered in stray clothes. Towels littered the floor from the shower he must have taken earlier and the bedsheets were thrown off the bed and onto the carpet.

Even despite the chaos, it was impossible not to notice the tight ripple of muscles he hid under his shirts. Perfectly sculped as if by God Himself only emphasized by the low hang of the caramel colored slacks around his waist, deep enough to see the V of his pelvis. You shuddered, looking away but your eyes caught onto his left arm.

You already knew about the scars, but seeing them in full almost made your heart give out. Faintly discolored mutilation in the tissue ran up the entirety of his arm, almost as if he’d dipped it in paint, ending at the bridge of his shoulder. It didn’t appear to be painful anymore, but he still kept it hidden under long sleeves. You wondered if he realized it was on display in front of you now.

“Bucky,” you called gently, setting the coffees down on the counter as he started to rake his hands through his hair, clearly panicking.

“I’m freaking out,” he blurted, pacing rapidly, “I’m freaking _the_ _fuck_ out.”

“Okay,” you said calmly, nodding, “why don’t we–”

“Should I wear red?” Bucky asked, completely ignoring you or unable to even hear your attempt to calm him and as he gripped so tightly at his hair, you wondered if he might just pull it out. He stared down at the clothes on the bed like it was a life or death decision. “Red and Black are her school colors. Is that stupid? Maybe it’s too much.”

“Well, maybe you should–”

“I should wear blue! Blue is relaxing, right? It evokes a sense of calm. I read that in an article this morning. Maybe I should wear blue so Bec doesn’t start throwing shit at me the second she sees me.”

“Bucky, hold on a moment–”

“Or- or maybe I should just go with white? It’s simple. Sharp and–”

“ _Bucky!_ ”

He froze suddenly, the trail of his thoughts dying on the edge of his lips, though he didn’t look in your direction.

You walked forward, slowly, enough not to startle him, and carefully pulled his hands away from the grip on his hair. He didn’t flinch as you touched him and you took it as a good sign, tenderly rubbing your thumb in circles over his wrist until he took notice of you. He softened then, eyes falling to you and letting out a long, steady breath. The tension faded from his muscles the longer he kept your gaze.

“Shit,” he sighed, dropping his stare to the floor and pulling away from you. “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t– I didn’t mean to drag you into my crazy and–”

“You let me drag you into mine, didn’t you?” you challenged, smiling sweetly at him.

He shook his head, unconvinced. “You weren’t completely losing it, Y/n. I can’t even—I can’t even pick out a damn shirt without overanalyzing it! What the hell is wrong with me? I can’t face my own family without having a full mental breakdown!”

“I had a panic attack in the middle of my ex’s vows and spent ten minutes crying on your jacket,” you reminded him, gently running your hands up his arms and cupped at his face to draw his attention back to you. “Nothing is wrong with you, Bucky. You just need a little help, okay?”

He nodded slowly, grounding himself through your hands on his cheeks. He let out a deep breath as you pulled away, stepping back just enough to shuffle through the clothes on the bed. After some consideration, you pulled out a forest green button up with subtle white patterns along the fabric. It was light enough that he’d be able to wear it under Georgia heat, even with the long sleeves.

He must have noticed you trailing your hands along the fabric, only touching the ones with sleeves down to his wrist and he smiled softly, wondering how you’d picked up on that so fast.

“Here,” you said, handing him the shirt, “try this.”

Bucky slowly took the shirt from your hands, his fingertips grazing over yours and you shuddered at the feeling. He smiled nervously as he shrugged the shirt on, buttoning it down the middle. He held his arms out to the side, waiting for your opinion.

“It’s almost there but,” you stepped forward, gathering a bit of the fabric at the center by his waist as tucked it into the front of his jeans, tugging a bit on the sides so it flowed nicely, “there you go. Now you’re all set.”

Bucky nodded, checking himself out in the mirror as he stretched his neck to the side. You handed him a pair of brown wing tips and he slid them on his feet without question.

“I’m not sure how I functioned before this weekend,” Bucky chuckled and it was a relief to hear the anxiety drained a little from his voice. He stood up, pressing out a tight smile as he gently gripped your biceps. “Thank you, Y/n.”

You bit on your lip, eyes darting away as he finally took in the sight of you; dressed in a knee length navy dress that held tight to your chest down to the cinch of your waist, and flowed down in loose, breezy fabric with light brown buttons carrying up the center line.

“You look beautiful, by the way,” Bucky added, meeting your eye again with a sincerity that dared you to believe him.

You mumbled your thanks, reaching back to the counter to hand him the cup of coffee you bought for him on your way over, trying to avoid the embarrassment as it flooded your cheeks. Bucky didn’t seem to mind your escape and gladly took the coffee from your hand, sighing contently as he took a sip.

“How’d you know my order?” he asked, raising an eyebrow and he took in another gulp.

“That checkers game we played at the airport,” you shrugged, grabbing your own cup from the counter, “it was like the fourth or fifth question I asked.”

“I forgot about that,” he laughed, shaking his head. “Feels like it was a lifetime ago.”

You nodded in agreement, watching him over the brim of your coffee as you took a sip. It was almost as if months or years sat within the confines of a single weekend. From the moment you met him at your gate in the Charlotte airport to eating ice cream on the park bench until two in the morning, he captivated you and drew you in and took over your world unlike anyone else ever had.

He was remarkable and complex and full of a kindness and compassion you struggled to even give to yourself. The idea of losing him after the weekend was over, after the magic of this trip subsided and you were both thrown back to the real world, was too devastating to even think of. So, you helped Bucky clean up his room and let him take your hand as you both walked down the to lobby.

The valet attendant called for a cab and you waited with Bucky on the sidewalk, sipping on your coffee until it was empty and squeezing his hand when you felt him start to get lost in his thoughts again.

Once the cab rolled up, he held the door open for you and let you slide into the seat. Closing it behind you and jogging around to the other side. He sent you a wink as he slid in next to you. He told the driver the address of the ceremony and buckled his seatbelt. With the middle seat open between you, he felt too far away.

“Have you thought about what you’ll say to her?” you asked carefully, watching for his reaction.

He stiffening slightly, nodding as his hands curled into fists. You reached across the seat and placed your hand over his, closing around his palm and he smiled painfully in appreciation.

“Every time I try, I just freeze up,” he admitted, running his free hand down his thighs. “She’s hated me for so long, I don’t even know what to say. It’s been almost six years.”

You sighed as he looked out the window, his jaw visibly clenching as he avoided your eyes in shame. You couldn’t stand seeing him this way, blaming himself and withdrawing from the man who had so selflessly and with a compassion unlike anyone else, saved you from falling into your ex’s trap. He deserved to belief the same things he told you. That he mattered. That he had worth. He didn’t seem to believe it, not when it came to his sister.

Slowly, you unbuckled your seatbelt and scooted closer to him, settling in on the middle seat and holding onto his arm. He turned to you, surprised, though he started to relax again.

“It’s important you know that no matter what happens, she’ll make her own choices and you can’t control how she reacts,” you said gently. He nodded, though it was painful. You squeezed his hand. “You know what you want to say, Buck. I’m sure you’ve been thinking about it for years. I truly hope she comes around and you two can mend things, but I want you to know it’s not your fault if she doesn’t. You’re doing what you can and you’ll keep doing it until she’s ready. The rest is up to her, okay?”

It was silent for a moment as Bucky took in your words. You gave him the time he needed to think, sitting comfortably with the music playing softly from the front seat as you leaned on his shoulder, staring out the windshield to the busy Atlanta traffic.

“Okay,” Bucky said after a while, letting out a shaky breath. He pushed out a smile for you, though it struggled to meet his eyes, but you could tell he was trying.

Twenty minutes later as the cab pulled up to the auditorium, Bucky’s arm was draped around your shoulders, your hand resting on his thigh and rubbing soft circles to keep him grounded. He mentioned once that the physical contact was helpful for him, something his therapist down at the VA had suggested when he first got back. It was why he was so eager to grab your hand, though he promised it was your hand specifically he liked holding.

“Ready?” you asked as Bucky slipped cash through the window to the driver up front. He slumped back into his seat, but he did eventually nod.

“Not sure I’ll ever be as ready as I am right now,” he said, squeezing your hand. “Thank you, again for, uh, for coming with me.”

You smiled, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek and he smiled back at you. Waiting a moment too long just staring at one another, the driver tapped on the window, pulling your attention away and gestured for you to get out of the car.

Bucky mumbled a quick apology as you started to laugh and followed him out of the car. Hand in hand, he led you up the grand stairs and into the building filled with families and friends and students dressed in bright red gowns and caps.

“My Ma said she’s got seats,” Bucky said, pushing through the crowd and keeping you as close as possible.

“She knows I’m coming, right?” you asked nervously, just now realizing that helping Bucky through this family event meant actually _meeting_ his family.

“Um, not exactly,” Bucky mumbled, squeezing you buy a couple gathered on the walkway as he led you up the stairs. You didn’t even have time to object because he waved at a woman sitting at the edge of a row. With dark brunette hair sweeping at her shoulders and soft blue eyes that lit up the moment she caught sight of him, it was no wonder Bucky was her son.

“There’s my boy,” she cooed, standing up to hug him tightly around the shoulders. She pulled back, squeezing at his cheeks as he tried to swat her away. “Handsome as ever.” She glanced over Bucky’s shoulder to you as you held your hands clasped tightly together and chewing on the edge of your lip. “Who’s this? I didn’t know you were bringing a guest, James.”

_James?_

“Y-yeah, sorry about that ma. Last minute arrangements,” he stumbled out, scratched at his neck and eyes flickering over to you. “This is, um, this is my, my friend. Y/n.”

Bucky’s mom smiled sweetly, eyeing you as you extended a hand to her.

“It’s nice to meet you, ma’am,” you said as she pushed your hand aside and pulled you in for a hug. You glanced at Bucky over her shoulder and he grimaced in apology, but you didn’t mind much. She was kind, something you’d expect from the woman who raised such a man.

“Well I’m glad you came, Y/n,” she said, smiling wide before she sent a knowing look at Bucky. “It’s been quite a while since you’ve brought a _‘friend’_ around, James.”

Bucky’s eyes went wide and his cheeks turned as red as the gowns of the students as they gathered down by the stage. You laughed, biting on your tongue when he glared helplessly in your direction, though your smile was still present.

“Jesus, ma,” he grumbled, grabbing your hand and guiding you past his mother to sit on the bench. Luckily there was enough room as his uncle had to skip for a work commitment.

He took a seat next to you, sitting between you and his mother, as he greeted the rest of his family with a short wave. He seemed uncomfortable, like he’d been avoiding his extended family for about as long as he had his sister. The only person he seemed calm around was his mom.

“You alright?” you asked quietly into his ear so only he could hear. He nodded, though he was clenching at his knees, wrinkling his slacks from the constant gripping on the fabric.

You wanted to reach for his hand but you weren’t sure what he wanted, seeing as his mother was right next to him and you imagined he didn’t want to lie to her the way he’d lied to Jack and Marci at the wedding. It was one thing pretending you were together to get through the wedding of your ex, but another thing entirely to lie to family about it.

It didn’t seem to register that you’d also held his hand in intimate moments when no one else was around, when there was no show to put on.

As the students lined into the seats and faculty took their place on the stage, you could feel Bucky tensing beside you. His eyes were downcast, staring at his shoes as his whole upper body rose and fell with every breath. His mother started to talk with the family in the row ahead and you took the opportunity to rub your hand along his back in slow, steady circles.

He flinched at the sudden touch, though he started to melt when he realized it came from you. He nodded, smiling tiredly at you as if it took most of his effort and he sank back in his seat.

“I’m sorry for all of this,” he mumbled under his breath, jaw clenched as he looked at you for a moment, shame heating in his cheeks. “You must think I’m pathetic…”

You shook your head, grabbing his hand and holding it in the space between you, tucked between his thigh and yours so it wasn’t easily noticeable. “I would never think that, Bucky, and you don’t have to apologize. I know this is hard for you. It’s been six years. But you’re not alone. I’m with you, remember?”

He nodded, neither of you realizing the ceremony had even begun as the president took the podium.

“You’re gonna be just fine, _James_ ,” you teased, hoping to draw a smile out of him and it came easier than you anticipated. He nudged your shoulder, chuckling slightly as the tension drained from him.

“Middle name’s Buchanon,” he clarified with a shake of his head.

“Well that clears everything up then,” you replied sarcastically, which made him laugh again and you swore you could have spent hours listening to the sound. You kept his hand held firm in your own up until the moment his mom sat back in her seat and you started to let go, but he gripped on tighter, sending you an apologetic look you only returned with a genuine smile.

Nearly an hour passed by before the first graduates began to walk the stage. It wouldn’t take long for his sister to cross the stage, you realized, after he told you his last name was Barnes. He fidgeted in his seat the whole time, glancing down at the row of red gowns as students lined up in rows. They were starting to get to the end of the ‘A’s and Bucky’s mother patted his knee lightly, smiling at him.

“She’s on the stairs,” his mother said, pointing excitedly to the young women with short brown hair at her shoulders in soft waves appearing on the video projection. She was standing behind four people leading to the stage.

“She cut her hair,” Bucky observed, voice low, nervous.

“She’s had it like that since last year,” his mom replied and though she didn’t mean for it to be a dig at her son, Bucky still cringed, blaming himself for how much he’d missed in his sister’s life, even something as simple as a haircut.

Two more to go and Bucky jaw was practically wired shut. You leaned in closer to him.

“She looks really happy,” you said, trying to ease him but he remained stiff as a board.

“She doesn’t know I’m here yet,” he muttered back, defeated. “That’ll change.”

Your heart sank. As his name sat on the edge of your lips, his mother jumped up to her feet, gesturing for the family to get ready. You pressed your lips together, knowing there’d be time to ease him later as you helped pull him up.

“Rebecca Jane Barnes,” the announcer called and the family erupted into applause. She walked across the stage, waving out into the audience with a beaming smile on her face, gown flowing with each step.

You glanced up at Bucky as she took her diploma and posed for the mandatory picture, and he had relaxed somewhat, a soft smile on his face as the rest of the family hollered and waved enthusiastically. His hand was still gripped in yours and he squeezed it as Rebecca left the stage.

As the family took their seats again, Bucky’s mother nudged his side, getting his attention. “Three hours just to see 30 seconds. What a con!”

He laughed at that, more at ease now. His mother must have noticed.

“Why don’t you and Y/n head back to the house,” she suggested, glancing over at you with a sweet kind of smile and her eyes flickered down to your hands clasped together, though she didn’t say anything. “Just make sure everything’s in order for the party. We’ll be home in an hour or so.”

Bucky nodded, pressing a kiss to his mother’s cheek before squeezing by her. He didn’t bother letting go of your hand as he helped you through the aisle and down the stairs, keeping you steady on your heels.

Once the two of you made it through the tunnel and back into the open lobby of the auditorium and the speaker announcing student names was only a muffled echo, Bucky let out a heavy breath.

“Shit,” he sighed in relief, a slight laugh in his tone. “I promise I’m not always that much of a mess.”

You shrugged, leaning your head on his shoulder as you walked outside. “Maybe I like a little mess.”

Bucky bit down on his lip to suppress the smile aching in his cheeks.

***

The cab pulled up to an off-white paneled home in the suburbs with dark green shutters and flower beds lining the walls; green shrubbery and evidence of a basketball hoop that had once been affixed above the garage once, where a faint discoloration was left behind. A banner hung over the front door reading ‘CONGRATULATIONS’ with tiny cartoon confetti, diplomas, and graduation caps sprinkled in the background.

Bucky scooted out of the cab, ordering you to stay put with a teasing grin as he ran around the back to try and open the door for you, but you were too fast for him. Though, he still helped you to your feet, even if you’d beaten him to the door.

From the open garage, where folding tables were already set up with red and black tablecloths held under stones on the corners, a tall blonde-haired man waved, wide grin spreading on his face.

“Steve!” Bucky shouted, laughing as excitement and surprise started to take over. He took one glance at you, asking permission, and you smiled, letting go of his hand and shoving him towards his friend. They collided in a tight hug and a few pats on the back before he said, “I didn’t know you were gonna be in town!”

“Didn’t you borrow that suit from him yesterday?” you asked with a raised eyebrow as you walked up behind them.

Steve smiled, exchanging a knowing look with Bucky whose cheeks immediately reddened. “He stole it from my mom’s house. She moved down here a few years back, right after Mrs. Barnes and Rebecca, and she seems to have an unfortunate habit of holding onto my old clothes. Must be nostalgia or something.”

“Where’s Peg?” Bucky asked quickly, noticing the way Steve was eyeing you like he knew something you didn’t.

“Inside finishing up the fruit salad,” Steve smiled, glancing back to the window of the kitchen where you could barely make out the figure of a brunette woman pacing back and forth as she peeled an apple with the sharp end of a knife. Steve tucked his hands into his pockets, grinning, though he turned his attention back to you. “You must be the poor woman Bucky here dragged into his ridiculous layover shenanigans.”

You laughed, extending you hand to him with a nod as Bucky wacked his friend on the shoulder, face heating red. “Yeah, guess that’s me. I’m Y/n.”

“Oh, I know,” Steve grinned, earning another hit from Bucky though he was able to dodge it in time, “Bucky won’t shut up about you.”

“Really?” you teased and Bucky bit tirelessly on his lip, shaking his head.

“Steve’s being dramatic,” he tried to tell you, though you could hear the embarrassment in his voice.

“If that helps you sleep at night, pal.” Steve fought off another attack from Bucky only for the brunette woman you’d seen in the kitchen to lean out the window, waving a towel with a disapproving look on her face.

“If you boys are finished, I could use some help!” she called, thick English accent surprising you, though she softened immediately upon seeing you. Steve must have spread the news to her as well.

You stood with Bucky in the driveway for a moment longer as Steve jogged his way back up the driveway to the front door. Bucky sighed heavily next to you, swaying on his feet and tucking his hands deep into his pockets.

“Steve’s a dirty liar,” he mumbled, a teasing smile brimming on his lips as he glanced over at you. “Sorry about all that.”

“Don’t apologize,” you shrugged, smiling back at him, “he seems like a good friend.”

“The best,” Bucky confirmed with a nod, “even if he’s a pain in my ass.”

You followed Bucky up to the front porch and waited as he opened the door for you. Stepping inside, the entrance way smelled of freshly baked cookies and a vanilla candle burning in the living room. Peggy was pacing with purpose around the kitchen, an apron pressed over the soft flow of her dress, hair curled and pulled back from her face, when she spotted you. Jumping away from Steve’s arms, she quickly crossed the room and pulled you in for a hug.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Y/n,” she said, as if she’d been hearing about you for months rather than a day or so. You returned the embrace, thinking fondly that she was warm and comforting, and when she pulled back, you were met with a huge smile. She leaned in close, enough so that no one but you could hear her and said, “Bucky hasn’t smiled a lot in the last few years. It’s nice to see him happy. I hope we don’t lose that in him anytime soon.”

It wasn’t a threat, but an ounce of hope.

“Me, too,” you replied quietly and the bright red of her lips pushed even higher up her cheeks.

“Come on, now,” she said, wiping her hands on the thigh of her apron, “we’ve got some work to do before everyone arrives.”

***

It didn’t take long for the home to be flooded guests once the first ones rang the bell. The Barnes, it seemed, were a well-known family within the community and nearly half the town showed up to congratulate Rebecca on her graduation.

It took Bucky a moment to warm up, but soon enough he was smiling and joking with old friends out in the back yard alongside Steve, a can of half empty beer in his hand, while you talked with Peggy in the garage by the massive line up of snack foods.

You plopped another barbeque meatball onto your plate, cutting it in half and letting the steam seep out as Peggy watched you curiously. She was certainly intimidating for a woman with soft curved hair and bright red lipstick, and she had about a thousand questions for you, but you never once felt like you were under interrogation. She clearly cared about Bucky and was interested to know the woman that supposedly brought his smile back.

She’d told you that Bucky had been lost for a few years, retreating within himself after he came back from his second tour overseas. Something happened over there, though he wouldn’t say what, and with Rebecca shutting him out, he closed himself off completely. Though he never turned to a bottle or something darker to ease his suffering, he also never asked for the help he so clearly needed.

It surprised you to imagine the charming, carefree man who so easily came to your defense in the Charlotte airport, who bought you fresh coffee and snacks, and insisted on doing cartwheels at midnight had been in such a dark place. Peggy told you she hadn’t seen him truly smile with wrinkles up by his eyes and a laugh in his breath since before the war. You weren’t quite sure what to make of that, but the soft smile she gave you as she squeezed your hand, almost in thanks, was comforting.

“Did Peggy tell you about the time Bucky skinny-dipped in the lake behind our high school principal’s house?” Steve teased, jumping up from behind Peggy with a refill of her drink in his hand as he pressed a kiss to her cheek.

“Will you ever shut up about that, punk?” Bucky grumbled, pressing his lips into a thin line as he came up to stand next to you.

“I don’t know, Buck, it’s a story I think I’d like to hear,” you grinned, nudging at his side and he chuckled under his breath.

“Maybe another time, doll.”

Another time. You liked the sound of that.

Bucky’s arm draped over your shoulder and you wondered if he realized he was doing that in front of his friends; the weight of his arm against you, tugging you close to his side and breathing in the comforting smell of him laced with freshly mowed lawn and the tang of beer on his breath.

You parted your lips to tease him, especially after seeing the knowing glance between Steve and Peggy as they noticed Bucky’s ease with which he carried himself around you, but then, a hush fell over the crowd.

“She’s here!” someone shouted, and you felt Bucky jolt beside you.

The crowd rushed to the driveway to greet the car as it pulled in, but you kept yourself planted firmly at Bucky’s side. He didn’t attempt to pull away from you but you could feel the tension aching his in his muscles, his stare frozen on the ground by Steve’s feet, and his heart picking up in pace.

You nodded to Steve and Peggy, letting them know that you’d take care of Bucky while they went to greet Rebecca and her mother as they walked in. The apprehensive look on Steve’s face didn’t slip your notice as Peggy smiled sweetly at you, tugging him away despite his reluctance.

Once the garage had cleared out and the crowd made its way into the open area of the first floor where Rebecca was about to walk through the front door, you turned to Bucky, letting his arm fall away from your shoulders. You reached up, grabbing a firm hold of the sides of his face.

“Bucky, look at me,” you ordered, stern and gentle at the same time. He did. Blue eyes flickering back and forth, panicked. You brushed your thumb along his cheekbone. “You can do this, alright? I know it’s scary, but she’s your sister. Under it all, she loves you. You know that. Tell her what you have to. It’s up to her if she’s ready to hear it.”

Bucky nodded, swallowing thickly and he pushed out a semblance of a smile. “Yeah, yeah, okay. Thank you.”

“Of course,” you replied, removing your hands from his face and letting them fall to your sides, bunching into the fabric of your dress. “I told you I’d be here to support you, didn’t I?”

Bucky’s smile brightened at that. He extended his hand to you, a request, and you took it without hesitation. The two of you made your way into the kitchen from the garage to find the area packed wall to wall with guests. Bucky paused at the edge of the crowd, losing his nerve for a moment, but as you squeezed his hand, he gained some back, enough to push his way through.

Rebecca was standing at the center of the living room dressed in her bright red robes unbuttoned down the middle, worn like a coat, and a fitted white dress underneath. She was smiling, laughing as guests came forth to hug her and congratulate her, handing over gifts and envelopes and asking what she had planned next.

You spotted Steve and Peggy at the front of the crowd, standing on the edge of the circle. Then, you saw Bucky’s mother, who sucked in a deep breath at the sight of Bucky making his way closer, though she relaxed somewhat as she spotted your hand wrapped tightly in his.

Rebecca stood at the center of the open circle, her back to Bucky as he broke through the crowd of people and stepped into the open space with her. She didn’t realize he was there just yet but a lull came over the crowd. They all knew the strained history between the siblings, it seemed.

Bucky released your hand, knowing this was something he had to do on his own and you stepped back into the circle, though you moved to stand by Peggy and Steve, determined to stay within his line of sight, just in case.

Slowly, Rebecca narrowed her eyes, glancing around the room to find everyone staring at something beyond her shoulder. She turned around, confused, until her eyes landed on her brother and the smile fell from her face, features hardening over and jaw clenching so tight the muscle spasmed in her cheek.

“Hey Bec,” Bucky said, his voice low, pained, and you could practically feel his heart pounded from across the room. His eyes flickered over to you for half of a second and you nodded at him, smiling softly, encouragingly, before he turned back to his sister.

She handed the envelopes in her hand off to her mother before she took a step forward.

“What are you doing here?”

Shock. Anger. Betrayal as she shot daggers at her mother. You couldn’t tell which stung the most.

Bucky swallowed anxiously, his hands pushing into his pockets as you noticed the slight tremor while he tried to hold them at his sides. It was obvious how much he cared for his sister, how much guilt he allowed to weigh upon his shoulders, how much he just wanted to make things right again. Perhaps it was only obvious to everyone but his sister.

“Bec,” Bucky said softly, taking a step forward and wincing as she retreated back, keeping the distance between them. “I know it’s been a while, but I wanted to be here for you, to support you. This is, uh, this is a big day for you and I thought maybe we could make things–”

“ _What?_ ” Rebecca snapped, unaffected by the whispers of the crowd. Bucky flinched. “What did you think was gonna happen?”

“Bec, I–”

“Did you think you were just going to waltz right in here like everything was just fine? Like you didn’t abandon this family to fight in a goddamn war _no one_ asked you to take part in!” she shouted, and you could hear the pain in her voice, angry and grieving.

Bucky’s jaw was clenched so tightly you wondered if it would stay locked that way forever.

“You left us, James!” Rebecca accused, pointing her finger at him, “ _You_ made that choice! After all the Army put you through and after watching your friends _die_ and getting your arm ripped to shreds, _you went back!_ ”

Bucky’s face was flushed red, eyes darting at the carpet; like a lost puppy with its tail between its legs. You hated seeing him like this, so easily giving into the guilt of allowing his sister to push him away for so long. He shook his head, like a counter argument was racing through his mind but he didn’t voice it aloud. He let her yell, let her get out what she needed to say.

This was his plan, you realized, to let her say all the things she never had the chance to scream and fight with him about when he came home again because she had cut him out completely. They never had this confrontation. It only seemed fitting to have it with a full audience.

Guests started to back away into the kitchen, some escaping out to the yard, though others stayed to watch, too caught up in the tension hanging in the air and the thrill of the drama between siblings.

“You have no right to be here!” Rebecca shouted, picking up a pillow from the couch and chucking it harshly at Bucky’s chest, though he blocked it with his forearm, letting it fall with a soft bounce to the floor. She threw another, and another, and whatever she could get her hands on. “I told you I didn’t want to see you again! I meant what I said! You knew this would happen if you left and _you did it anyway!_ ”

Bucky took a deep breath, starting to grow frustrated with the amount of pillows he was dodging. His eyes flickered over to you in a brief moment and you nodded, knowing he was seeking the courage to say what he had been thinking for the last few years. Consequences be damned.

“And _you!_ ” Rebecca turned to her mother, who watched with wide, pained eyes, “why the hell would you let him–”

“ _Enough!_ ” Bucky roared, silencing the room instantly. “This isn’t mom’s fault, so leave her out of this. This fight is between us.”

Rebecca crossed her arms over her chest, raising an eyebrow and waiting for him to continue.

“What happened to us, Bec?” Bucky started, his voice softening. “We used to be so close. I hate that I can’t talk to you about what’s going on in my life anymore. I’ve had your number dialed up on my phone dozens of times in the last few years, but I’ve never had the damn courage to call. We used to talk about everything. You always knew when I was fighting with Steve. You knew when some girl was breaking my heart. You knew about every dead-end job I had up in Brooklyn and how much I hated that you and Ma moved down to Atlanta without me.”

You watched Rebecca as she kept her face blank, emotionless, not giving into an ounce of the pain Bucky was putting on full display.

“I don’t know what your first year at school was like,” Bucky continued, shaking his head, disappointment in his voice. “I don’t know how quickly you made friends or what your favorite classes were. I only know your major because Ma told me. I feel like we’re strangers, Bec. I want things to be better, how they used to be. I miss my sister. I miss having my family.”

“Yeah, well you made that choice, didn’t you?” Rebecca snapped back and your heart broke as Bucky closed his eyes, the devastation so evident on his face, you wanted nothing more than to whisk him away from this.

“Bec, please, just listen to me–”

“I want you to leave.”

Bucky’s shoulders slumped, his eyes glancing over at his mother desperately before they returned to his sister. “Bec, come on. Don’t do this.”

Rebecca just rolled her eyes and suddenly, Bucky was gritting his teeth. You felt Peggy’s hand on your wrist, keeping you grounded as you must have looked about as distressed as you felt just watching the full of Bucky’s pain and insecurity rushing to the surface.

But there was something else, too.

Something like anger.

“I get that you’ll never understand why I went back after everything that happened,” Bucky said, his voice low but defiant. Determined. A new kind of strength in his words. “I could have died. I know that, but it was part of the risk. I’m sure you probably think that by going back, I was just throwing my life away and you know what? Maybe I was.”

Rebecca shifted in her stance. She hadn’t expected that, but her features remained stern.

“Maybe being state-side was hell for me because I watched friends die over there. I lost my purpose when I came home and I didn’t know how to just be some normal civilian and go to a day job when I’d spent years sleeping on rubble and dodging bullets. So, yes, I went back the second I was cleared to. I needed to prove to myself that what happened over there didn’t break me. I had to go back for my friends who died in a blast that should have killed me, too.”

The room was painfully silent. You swore you could hear your own heart pounding in your chest.

“But honestly, Bec, with you cutting me off like this,” Bucky shook his head, “what fucking difference would it have made if I had just died over there? Wouldn’t have mattered to you, would it? Maybe I should have. It would have been easier for all of us.”

Rebecca stiffened instantly, blank faced and shocked, while his mother gasped in a shaken breath, hands darting up to cup at her lips as someone behind her held her steady.

Rebecca’s arms fell to her sides, a wave of something like remorse and pain rushing to replace the anger etched into her expression and she tried to take a step forward but Bucky held a hand up defensively. It was then he started to notice the crowd of onlookers that had witnessed his confrontation with his sister, who had heard him admit to the worst of his thoughts in the back of his mind.

Without another word, he turned his back and pushed his way through the crowd, shoving aside strangers gathered to watch the moment he’d been dreading for years fall apart in front of him.

You didn’t waste any time before you rushed after him, keeping a close eye on his shoulder blades as he weaved through the guests. They parted like the sea for him, knowing better than to confront him or stand in his way as he made his escape. You waited until he stepped outside, into the empty garage before you called his name.

He turned around, surprised, like he hadn’t expected you to follow him and the moment he caught sight of you, saw the concern in your eyes and the way your hand reached up to touch his arm, he broke down. Tears welling in his eyes and lips trembling, you grabbed a tight hold of his hand, leading him silently to the front lawn, away from prying eyes and eased him down to sit on the porch steps. He came willingly, head leaning against your shoulder as you draped your arm across his legs, rubbing soothing patterns against his thighs.

You could feel the wet of his tears on your skin and the slight tremble in his body, but you didn’t say anything. He needed this moment of release, to let out years of frustration and anger and loss he had been suffocating for so long. Only when he swallowed back the last of his tears, sniffling and pulling away from your shoulder to sit up straight, did you tell him exactly what you thought.

“I’m proud of you, Bucky.”

He shook his head, chewing on his lip. “I fucked it all up. _Again_.”

“You got out what you needed to say,” you reminded him as you gathered his hand in your own. He sighed at the touch, relieved. “Maybe it didn’t go how you wanted but it was never going to be fixed in one conversation. You knew that. It’ll take time.”

He nodded, watching the way you traced against the lines in his palm. “Maybe things’ll just never be okay with us. Maybe I just fucked everything up for good.”

“Oh, Bucky,” you sighed, cupping the side of his face and urging him to look at you. You were met with pools of deep blue with red strain filling the whites of his eyes, and a hard clench in his jaw. “I don’t think–”

“Did you mean what you said?” a voice suddenly asked from behind you; soft, nervous, and Bucky’s breath hitched.

You turned slowly to find Rebecca standing in the frame of the door, looking down at Bucky with her lower lip trembling. She gripped the knob so tightly her knuckles were sheet white. Bucky didn’t say anything. You suspected he didn’t know how.

“You really think I would have rather you died?” she asked, her voice cracking as tears burned in her eyes.

You watched as Bucky stumbled over his words before they could even pass by his tongue. Glancing up at Rebecca, you offered her a soft smile, encouraging her to continue, before you turned to Bucky, placing a kiss to the back of his hand, just along the knuckles, before you stood.

“Wait. Don’t go,” he whispered, voice so small it nearly broke your heart. He held a tight grip on your hand.

“You’ve got this. Just talk to her. I won’t be far,” you said softly into his ear, just loud enough only he could hear you. You let your hand graze along his cheek, sweet soothing motions, until he nodded and you pulled away. You nodded at Rebecca and she pushed out a semblance of a smile in appreciation as she stepped down to take a seat next to her brother.

Giving them the space to talk, you made your way over to the garage where some of the guests had begun to gather around the tables of food. No one seemed to pay attention as Bucky and Rebecca talked quietly away from the crowd. You could see his lips moving, her head nodding subtly as he spoke and he wiped at his eyes. She did, too.

You let out a heavy breath, leaning against the edge of the garage, content to just watch. They sat there together for nearly twenty minutes before you decided to seek out Peggy and Steve out in the back yard huddled around a bonfire, holding onto each other smiling with a kind of joy you always imagined for yourself. You decided to leave them be.

When you found your way back to the driveway, Bucky and Rebecca had disappeared from their place on the steps. You narrowed your eyes, walking around the house a bit until you spotted the soft wave of Bucky’s hair through the window. He was standing in the kitchen, talking with his mother and Rebecca stood only a few feet away, a careful smile on her face as she nodded along to whatever he was saying. After a moment, he gestured towards her and she came willingly, through apprehensively, as he hugged her from the side. It was one-armed and timid, and incredibly awkward, but they pulled away with hope in their eyes. His mother was crying.

Smiling to yourself and thankful you could give him the support he needed to face this day after all he’d done for you at Jack’s wedding, you started to find yourself stepping back until you reached the edge of the driveway.

He didn’t need you anymore. The magic of the weekend was over and you’d both go back to your separate lives. It was all this weekend was meant to be. Some kind of whirlwind fantasy. It wasn’t ever meant to last.

You wondered if maybe you’d ever run into him in New York. He had mentioned he grew up in Brooklyn. It was a big city, after all. Maybe it would be best if you never ran into piercing blue eyes and kind smiles again. You weren’t sure you’d be able to let him go a second time.

You reached into your bag, searching for your phone to call for a Lyft. You stared at the app for a few minutes before you accepted. The sun was on its way down and most of the guests had retreated inside to escape the dark and the bugs at dusk. A chill swept over you and you crossed your arms, glancing down the end of the road in search of your ride.

“Y/n!”

You turned around, heart skipping a beat, to find Bucky stepping out into the garage, heading turning out to the back lawn in search of you, though he came up empty. He jogged away from the back door, thinking you must be inside, when he caught sight of you standing at the end of the driveway.

“Y/n?” His voice was quieter now, confused, and he jogged down to meet you as you waved awkwardly. “What are you doing? I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

He glanced down to the phone gripped in your hand. The notification that your driver would be here in only a few minutes plastered across the screen. His shoulders fell.

“You’re leaving?” he asked, a sad ache in his voice you weren’t expecting.

You shrugged, nodding. “Yeah, well I saw you seemed to work things out with your sister, or, you’re at least on the right path– and I’m really happy for you, Bucky, honest, I am – but you don’t exactly need me here anymore, so I thought I should just–”

“What makes you think I don’t need you?”

You froze. “What?”

“Well, the guests are about to start clearing out in a few and Steve’s convinced us to bring out Pictionary again like we used to play in the old days and I’m going to need a partner,” he said casually, pursing his lips like it was a last minute thought and not something he had been thinking about all day. “Besides, I wanted to thank you for this weekend. Just think about the shitstorm we both would have gone through alone if you hadn’t spilled your coffee all over that pretentious asshole.”

You chuckled despite yourself, nodding. “He technically spilled my coffee on himself.”

“Right, of course,” Bucky grinned.

He glanced back at the kitchen to find Rebecca was washing dishes at the sink. She must have noticed him watching her and she raised a hand hesitantly to wave and Bucky couldn’t contain the smile pushing on his cheeks as he waved back. It was progress.

“I don’t want to intrude, Bucky. This seems like a family thing,” you said, awkwardly scratching at the nape of your neck. “Besides, I don’t want to give them the wrong idea, you know? It’s one thing to lie to my ex-boyfriend and his horrible friends I will hopefully never see again, but this is your family, Bucky. I don’t want to make them think that–”

“What? That I like you?” Bucky interrupted, a soft smile on his face as your eyes widened. He chuckled under his breath, taking a step forward and letting his hands run up the sides of your arms, warming you. “I meant what I said that night in the airport and out on the patio at the wedding. I want to see you again, Y/n, if you’ll let me. I want to go out on a date that doesn’t include one of us facing serious emotional turmoil and crying all night.”

You laughed at that and Bucky’s smile only got wider.

“Please, stay,” he asked again. “I promise we’ll destroy Steve and Peggy, though we might have to go easy on Ma and Bec given the circumstances.”

“She won’t go easy on you,” you countered, grinning.

“We’ll give her round one and then we’ll come at everyone full force. How’s that sound?” he conceded, his right hand moving from your shoulder to cup at the side of your face.

You leaned into him, nodding as you smiled, aching to feel more of his hands; warm and calloused, strong and tender. Reaching up to hold his wrist, your thumb tracing along the bone of his joint, content to sit with the silence of the crickets chirping around you and the soft light of the kitchen extending down the driveway.

Bucky brushed away a hair fallen out of place, using his hand on your cheek to carefully urge you closer to him. There was too much space between you, always too much space, and as your eyes flickered down to pink lips you had kissed the night before, you couldn’t stand the anticipation.

You pushed yourself up against him, arms wrapping around his neck as your lips brushed his; slow at first, timid and testing the waters, until it deepened to something more and Bucky’s hands traveled down your back and clung to your waist.

His lips were unlike anything else. Though, you supposed so was he.

This man with the kind smile and blue eyes that could knock you off your feet, who hummed off key with a voice like honey, and offered to buy you coffee after some middle-aged man in a suit screamed at you in the airport. This man, who did cartwheels at midnight and tracked you down at Jack’s wedding after he realized how alone you felt. This man, who cared so deeply for those he loved that he agonized and berated himself for years over his strained relationship with his sister.

You pulled back for air when you realized your ride was still on its way. Bucky only let you go reluctantly, his lips connecting with your cheek, your forehead as you fumbled to open the app and cancel the ride. He snatched the phone from your hands with a teasing smirk when you were taking too long and did it himself, tossing the phone into your bag. His hands found their way back to your cheeks and he pulled you in for another kiss.

“Let’s go, kids!” Steve called from the front door and you broke away from Bucky laughing, face pressed against his chest. “You can make-out some other time when I’m not about to decimate you in Pictionary!”

“Shut the hell up, Rogers!” Bucky called back, though he was laughing, arms circled around your shoulders as you hid your blushed face against him. He shook his head, looking down at you and pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “What do you say, doll?”

“Guess we better show Steve who’s boss,” you replied, face stern, serious, until you broke out into a smile.

“I knew I liked you for a reason,” Bucky grinned, leading you back up the driveway. As the light from the kitchen illuminated his face, you started to laugh, quickly pulling him to a stop and rubbing at the lipstick mark on the corner of his lips. He jolted away. “Hey! Maybe I like that there…”

“You want to give Steve more ammunition against you right now?” you laughed, only letting your hand fall when you were certain you got the last of it, but Bucky swept in and kissed you again. “Bucky!”

“Okay, okay!” he surrendered, thought he stole a final kiss against your forehead before he held the door open for you, gesturing for you to take the first step inside.

You followed in behind him, his hand wrapped around yours and a beaming smile on your face you couldn’t seem to shake.

This weekend was meant to be filled with tears and the bottom of a bottle, with heartbreak and shame at the hands of your ex. But instead, it was made of adventures in Charlotte Douglas at midnight and dancing your way through the worst wedding invite you’d ever accept and attending a college graduation of a stranger’s estranged sister.

It was chaos and escapism. It was a leap of faith and unbridled joy. It was learning that you were more than what someone else thought of you and it was finding yourself again. It was crying on one another and facing the worst of your fears. It was unquestioned support. It was mint-chocolate chip ice cream at two in the morning and overly competitive Pictionary. It was holding hands with the man with startling blue eyes and kissing him in the dark.

It was Bucky Barnes.

The handsome stranger in the airport.

* * *

_Leaning on somebody isn’t easy_   
_I’ll do what I can to make you see that_   
_This is not a temporary love_   
_This is not a temporary love_   
_Now your heart is in my hands, I won’t give it up_   
_This is not a temporary love_

_[[Temporary Love – Ben Platt]](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Fplaylist%2F4bpbwenEkxDaERiHE4hfhE%3Fsi%3D5YWy1j2IQaW9IFXJcM9Iiw&t=OTc1NzEwM2NjOGY4YmRlZThhMDU2ODZhYWEyZDhmM2JlNjRlY2RiNSxxUHpLaUlxVw%3D%3D&b=t%3AajfEtkD74ZzgwdSgjg-gtw&p=https%3A%2F%2Fwkemeup.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F189551983212%2Fim-with-you-33&m=1) _


	4. Drabble: The Ledge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Okay but what was Bucky saying about y/n to Steve and Peggy before they met her 😂"

“You need to talk me off a ledge, Steve.”

Bucky stood in line behind a dozen angry passengers boarding a 3am flight to Atlanta, all tapping their toes incessantly and trying to peak up and over the shoulders of those ahead of them in hopes of getting on the plane faster, but Bucky would have much rather his flight have been canceled entirely.

“What’s going on?” Steve replied with a yawn.

Bucky could hear the tiredness in his friend’s voice, the soft rustle of the bed sheets and the click of the lamp. He felt a sharp stab of guilt, just realizing what hour it was, but he was sure he was going to collapse into a heap of himself if he didn’t talk to _someone_. This night couldn’t have possibly been real and if he didn’t tell Steve, he was sure might find a way to convince himself it was all a dream.

“Is that Bucky?” he heard a quiet voice mumble through the phone; English accent laced with sleep. “Put him on speaker, love.”

“You’ve got both of us now, punk,” Steve said and Peggy whispered a quick ‘hello.’ Bucky gritted his teeth and before he could offer an apology, Steve added, “you better start talking before we fall back asleep.”

A passenger shoved Bucky hard in the shoulder, pushing past him when he didn’t take the two steps ahead of him fast enough to keep up with the line. He let the man go without complaint.

Bucky realized then, he couldn’t talk about his sister; not with the anxiety peaking again and rushing through his veins like rapids. It only seemed to calm when you were with him and he didn’t know how that was possible, to have just met someone hours earlier and for his entire world to be dropped upside down like this.

But it was and it had been. And now, he was in trouble.

“There’s, um, there’s a girl.”

Silence. A pause, then, _“a girl?_ ”

“Yeah, Steve, _a girl,_ ” Bucky snapped. “Stop making me feel like I’m in middle school.”

“Hey you’re the one calling me at 3am over a girl, Buck!”

“Boys, stop it,” Peggy snipped, a light thump through the speaker as she swatted Steve’s arm before she let out a sigh. “Bucky hasn’t so much as mentioned a girl _or anyone_ in three years, so give him a break, darling.” Then, to Bucky, sweetly, “tell us about her.”

Had it really been three years since he landed stateside again? It felt like longer than that and yesterday all at the same time. 

There were pieces of him could still feel the gravel under his back when he slept at night and he still found himself glancing over his shoulder for threats in shopping malls, sneaking around corners at his office building, constantly vigilant. The other half of him felt like it was a lifetime away, like he’d been this isolated, shell of himself for decades, like he hadn’t used the muscles in his cheeks in a millennium.

He swallowed, shoving a hand into his pocket and letting a family of five behind him cut the line. He wasn’t ready to get on this plane just yet. The bag of skittles in his pocket were heavy as stones.

“You remember the stupid shit I used to do with Bec in Charlotte?”

“Is that why you’re callin’ so late?” Steve asked, his voice considerably softer and Bucky wondered how much Peggy’s silent stare had to do with that. “Your flight get canceled?”

“Yeah,” Bucky sighed, pinching at the bridge of his nose, “but it’s back on. I’m boarding now.”

Another silence took over and Bucky wondered if they could hear his heart pounding through the phone.

He glanced back at the long line of people behind him and resided to simply step to the side. He was letting just about everyone pass him by anyway, might as well be the last one to board. He took a deep breath.

“The girl, Bucky,” Peggy reminded him gently.

“Right.” Bucky scratched at the back of his head, finding that his eyes kept drifting down the terminal in search of you, though he knew it was foolish. You had a flight to catch, too. How could he possibly miss you this much? It ached in his bones. It burned like a fire.

So, he told Steve and Peggy everything.

He told them about how you’d been the only other person in the terminal to smile in relief when the cancellations starting rolling in. He told them about the man in the suit who spilled your coffee all over you and how you’d been so patient and kind to the gate agent who looked to be about seconds away from tears.

He told them about how when he was faced with the possibility that you might just walk right out of his life right then and there, he’d done something he hadn’t done in years and asked to buy you coffee. He told them how adorable you’d looked because you were so surprised, shocked even, and he’d let himself flirt for the first time since he’d been home from the desert.

He told them about sitting in the coffeeshop people-watching past when the café was supposed to close and how he’d dragged you into cartwheels at midnight.

“Cartwheels?” Steve gaped. “Seriously, Buck? She must have thought you were completely insane.”

“She did,” Bucky confirmed, a slight laugh in his voice. He didn’t even realize he was smiling. He didn’t notice the nerves left his body.

“How terrible was it? You hadn’t done one of those since your layovers with Becca when you were sixteen. I bet it was awful,” Steve teased, though it was followed by a short grunt and Bucky was certain Peggy must have shoved him hard in the side for that. Bucky grinned.

“Don’t pay attention to him,” Peggy said. “Then, what happened?”

Then, Bucky told them about how you didn’t give him your name until almost an hour later and while he played it cool, it drove him impossibly insane. He told them how he took you to get snacks at the store Charlie worked at – _yes, that old man is still alive, Steve!_ – and then, about how you’d told him the reason you were going to Atlanta in the first place.

“Oh, that poor girl,” Peggy sighed.

Bucky could still picture the look on your face; the genuine belief that you were somehow not worthy of this jerk of an ex-boyfriend and he couldn’t understand it. You were impossibly kind and funny and so stunningly beautiful; Bucky could hardly keep his heart in check around you.

He told them how he tried to explain his situation with Becca to you, how it came out as a jumbled mess, how easily you changed the subject without hesitation and the relief he felt at that.

Then, he told them about the questions over giant checkers and Steve teased him relentlessly, despite Peggy swatting him again, telling Bucky, ‘ _well I think it’s sweet and Steve could learn a thing from you.’_

It felt like a month’s worth of time sat in the span of a few hours and Bucky found himself leaning up against the wall, watching the grumbling passengers make their way to the plane, a smile aching in his cheeks the longer he talked about you.

By the time he got to the end of the story, about how he’d just barely kissed you before the damn intercom went off, alerting you to your flights that were dangerously close to boarding, there were only a few stragglers left in the line.

“Y/n sounds lovely,” Peggy said after a moment. “So, why the ledge?”

Bucky sighed, slowly making his way to the very back of the line. “I don’t know. Maybe I was too much, you know? I don’t remember how to do this stuff. I feel like I dumped all my baggage on a woman I’ve known for a few hours and I fucked it all up.“

“Come on, man, I don’t think that’s true,” Steve said reassuringly, all tracing of the teasing nature leaving his voice. “It sounds like she likes you. I mean, who else would put up with cartwheels in the middle of the airport?”

Bucky found himself chuckling under his breath despite himself. He handed the gate agent his ticket and they pushed out a tight-lipped smile, nodding for him to continue down the gateway.

“She’s really something, Steve. I don’t know the last time I felt like myself and when I was with her… I don’t know, it was easy again, like all this stuff with Bec never happened and I never enlisted. I was laughing and smiling and telling jokes and— _Jesus_ – I was _flirting_. Didn’t know I could still do that.”

He could hear their laughter in response through the speaker as he stepped into the plane. Everyone else was seated, most people already trying to close their eyes and find some rest before the plane landed in Atlanta.

“Tell me you got her number,” Steve begged and Bucky clenched his jaw, slumping down into his seat. The silence was enough of an answer. “Bucky!”

“I know, I know! But I gave her mine, at least,” Bucky replied weakly. “Just have to hope she’ll call.”

“She will,” Peggy said and the soft rustle of the sheets came like static through the phone. She yawned. “Y/n will call, Bucky. I’m sure of it.”

It was a problem for another day, he supposed. 

A flight attendant stood over Bucky’s shoulder, eyeing his phone and he muttered a quick apology.

“I gotta go. Plane’s taking off,” Bucky mumbled into the phone, nervously glancing back up at the attendant who was still watching him as he continued walking through the cabin.

“Call us tomorrow when you get settled,” Peggy requested. “I know Sunday won’t be easy but we’re here for you. Just need to keep busy on Saturday. Think you can do that?”

Bucky nodded, letting out a deep breath. “Yeah, I’m sure I’ll find something to keep me occupied.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, pal,” Steve said, the click of the bedside lamp turning off. “Anyone who willingly goes along with your ridiculous layover shenanigans has got to really like you. I’m not sure I would even do a cartwheel on that dirty floor for you, buddy.”

Bucky laughed, his cheeks muscles sore and whether it was from the lack of sleep or from smiling more in one night than he had in years, he wasn’t sure.

“You off the ledge now?” Steve asked.

“Yeah. Consider me back on solid ground,” Bucky replied. The flight attendant was making his way back down the aisle to scold him again and Bucky quickly said, “okay I really have to go now before I’m the reason this plane never makes it to Atlanta. Get some rest, guys. Thanks.”

“Always, pal.”

“Fly safe,” Peggy added.

With that, Bucky ended the call and turned off his phone, holding it up for the attendant to see. He narrowed his eyes on Bucky, almost in warning, before he retreated back to his seat for takeoff.

Bucky settled into his seat, folding his arms and letting his eyes drift closed. Despite the lumps in the back of the cushioning and the arm rest to his right completely taken over by the man next to him, Bucky felt a sense of calm, a wave of relief, for the first time in a long while.

His mind drifted back to the beautiful stranger in the airport. The woman with the coffee on her shoes and the laugh of an angel and the kindest eyes he’d ever seen.

He found you again in his dreams.


	5. Drabble: 48 Hours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I gotta know how Bucky's mom and sister reacted to learning that he only knew the reader for a couple days like that must've been so weird to explain when they showed up all lovey dovey as if they'd been together for months"

“James seems really happy, doesn’t he?”

At the sound of Mrs. Barnes voice, Peggy glanced up from behind Steve’s shoulder as he meticulously counted through their won stack of Pictionary cards. He was muttering to himself, grumbling about how they should have gotten the card for ‘Fish in a Barrel’ if Bucky hadn’t said it as the buzzer was going off.

Mrs. Barnes was smiling as she watched you and Bucky in the kitchen, pulling more leftovers from the fridge and restocking the popcorn bowl. His arms were wrapped around your waist from behind, his chin tucked into your shoulder as you tried to shrug him off, laughing, tapping at his forehead, but he only held on tighter. He had on the kind of smile that wrinkled up by his eyes.

“I don’t think he just seems it. It’s been a while since any of us have seen him smile like that,” Peggy replied, his fingers scratching along Steve’s back to ease some of that overly competitive tension out of his shoulders. He started to relax a bit, as he always did.

“Been quite the weekend for him, huh?” Steve muttered under his breath off handedly as he kept his eyes trained on those cards like he just might count them again.

“Weekend?” Rebecca asked as she tossed another cracker into her mouth.

“Yeah, they met like two days ago on the flight down here,” Steve shrugged and Rebecca choked out Ritz dust until her mother provided her with a glass of water. That finally pulled away Steve’s attention from the game, and the look on Rebecca’s face – the wide eyes, the parted lips, the _‘I’m sorry, what?’_ expression – had Steve sending an apologetic look in her direction. “Did you not know that?”

“How is that possible?” Rebecca gaped, taking another sip of water to wash down the cracker she’s nearly choked on. “Bucky is notoriously closed off and emotionally stunted.”

She glanced at her mother who was still watching you and Bucky in the kitchen heating up leftovers for the group. He kept trying to kiss your cheeks as you plated the meatballs and you finally resorted to brushing a glob of barbeque sauce on his nose.

“Does this not surprise you?” she asked her mother.

“Not at all,” Mrs. Barnes replied simply. She sighed, turning away from the kitchen to pat her daughter’s leg. “My son has always been a romantic. Perhaps not the version James who returned home from war, but the boy I raised believed in fairytales. He believed in love at first sight and soulmates. He knew love when he saw it and he wasn’t afraid of the fall.”

She rubbed at Rebecca’s knee, glancing back into the kitchen to find you scooping the sauce off his face with a suppressed giggle and giving in to finally kiss him sweetly on the mouth; the two of you laughing and teasing more than doing your job, but no one seemed to mind.

“He was different when he came home. Both times. Though, the second was worse because he lost you,” she continued to say, looking to her daughter.

Rebecca’s clenched her jaw, a wave of guilt washing over her face and Peggy quickly reached out for her hand and squeezed it lightly, a gesture she appreciated.

“This is the James I know,” Mrs. Barnes said fondly, wrapping an arm around her daughter’s waist until Rebecca’s head fell against her shoulder. Peggy found herself leaning into Steve. “So, no, I’m not surprised at all.”

Just then, you and Bucky made your way back into the living room, carrying trays of food and giggling under their breath, sharing glancing and blushes covering their cheeks. Bucky seemed to have noticed the sudden silence and the myriad of eyes staring in their direction as he slowly set down the food.

“What? You guys talking ‘bout me?”

“Only good things, my dear,” Mrs. Barnes replied with a wink, and though Bucky remained apprehensive, the smile quickly returned to his face as you curled up against his arm. He pressed a kiss to your hairline, a hand stroking gently along the outside of your thigh while the other reached for a fry and held it to your lips, which you accepted with a grin.

Even Rebecca began to see what her mother did.

Bucky Barnes was a man in love.

And he was loved in return.

Perhaps neither of you could admit that to yourselves quite yet, it all happening so quickly. But you had survived an emotionally draining weekend together, supported one another through heartbreak and guilt, saw parts of one another most couples didn’t venture to explore until months down the line. You skipped steps, sure, but it didn’t make your affection less valid.

Bucky reached for the timer, tossing a teasing challenge at Steve who looked about ready to throw hands if Peggy didn’t start tracing her nails down his spine. You were laughing, rubbing your hands together in anticipation. Mrs. Barnes was sitting back, drinking her tea and observing quietly.

And Rebecca? She was smiling. Hoping to make up for lost time.


	6. Drabble: The First Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Drabble ideas / things I’d love to see for I’m With You: first date, first Christmas, how Bucky asks her to be his gf, how Bucky’s relationship with Becca turns out, do they get married? Kids? I can see them returning to the airport they met at 😭😭😭"
> 
> Let's start with the first date 😘

“Listen, we’ve got a jam-packed day today so I’d move a little quicker if I was you!” Bucky called from the other side of the door as you rushed around your closet-sized studio apartment in search of your shoes. You could hear him tap his forehead against the door. “We’re on a schedule here, Y/n and it’s been a full week since we landed back in the city and you haven’t let me see you since. It’s a real tragedy, you know? Plus, you’re making me step foot in Queens and I, for one, am—”

Still without your shoes on, you unfastened the locks and held open the door abruptly, only for Bucky to lose his footing and fall right into you. You steadied him on his arms and he was laughing as a blush crept up his cheeks. In his hands, a bouquet of pink and white flowers he must have picked up on the way over. He extended them to you, a new nervous energy around him now that the door was there to act as a shield.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you sighed, though you accepted the flowers. They smelled of fresh air and sweet florals; something you didn’t find often in the city. When you glanced up at Bucky again, you found him smiling at you adoringly.

“It’s first date protocol, doll.” 

Bucky shrugged teasingly, making his way into your kitchen and going through the cabinets until he found what he was looking for. He set a vase on the counter and gestured for the flowers back.

“You seem to have a plan for everything. Flight cancellations, first dates…” you observed, handing him the flowers and watching as he trimmed the stems and unwrapped the plastic. He set them into the vase, not completely satisfied with their height, and pulled out a few to trim another inch off the bottom. He stepped back with a grin when he was finished.

It must have been the first time he really got a look at you because he pulled his lower lip into his mouth, eyes trailing down your dark wash jeans with frayed holes at the thighs, the oversized sweater hanging off your shoulder, and your noticeably bare feet.

“You look beautiful,” he said simply and you wondered if your heart might beat out of your chest.

He crossed the room, attempting to pull you into his arms kiss you, but you skirted out of his hold. He pouted as you held up a finger at him.

“First date, right?” you started, finally locating your shoes hidden under the blanket by the couch. You slipped them on as you held onto the armrest for support. “We have to do this in the correct order, Bucky. Be normal with me, will you?”

“Nothing about us has been normal, doll,” he chuckled. “Can’t we just lean into it?”

“I want that proper first date, Barnes,” you teased, pinching at his shoulder. “You promise me a walk in the park and an Italian street vendor. Don’t think I forgot about that.”

“Where do you think I’m taking you, sweetheart?” Bucky had a hand on his heart, feigning offense, and you swatted his shoulder.

He offered you his hand on the way out the door and you took it without hesitation.

It only took a twenty-minute walk from your apartment before you reached the garden he’d been telling you about. It was quiet, away from the clusters of tourists taking pictures down by the bridge, and surrounded by beautiful brick archways. You paused at the entrance, surprised to find such a small, intimately beautiful Edan you hadn’t known existed so close to home.

But that wasn’t what stilled you in your tracks.

At the center of the open space was a blue and white checkered blanket, a series of wooden woven baskets, and a small speaker playing soft acoustic music a few feet away.

“Worthy of a proper first date?” Bucky asked, noticeably watching your expression with a grin matching the surprise on your face.

“When did you— How did you do this?” you gaped as Bucky tugged you along to the picnic blanket. You sank down to the ground, hand brushing over the plaid cotton and then to the basket. You opened it, curious, to find it filled with plates and napkins, but no food. You laughed, sitting back on your heels as you eyed Bucky. “I think you forgot something.”

“Did I?” he asked cheekily before he nodded to the entrance of the garden.

A short statured man with rosy red cheeks and a prominent frown emerged from behind the brick archways. He was wearing a white apron stained in grease over his red t-shirt, had a slight limp in his step, and was carrying a plastic bag full of food wrapped in tin foil.

“Gianni, my man!” Bucky greeted and the man carrying the food seemed to light up instantly.

“Ah, Booky, s’a good to see you!” Gianni set the food on the blanket next to you and engulfed Bucky in a hug tighter than he was prepared for. Bucky coughed a few times before Gianni let up and eventually let him go. Bucky handed him some cash and patted him on the back.

Gianni turned to you, wide eyes flashing in recognition. “This mus’ be your airport girl!”

“Be cool, Gianni!” Bucky hushed, pushing at Gianni’s shoulders as a heat flushed his cheeks. You started to laugh, though you spared his ego as you distracted yourself with unwrapping the food and the smell of mozzarella, garlic, oregano, and basil flooded your senses.

Bucky ushered Gianni away and finally came back to the blanket, dropping down in a huff before he met your eyes nervously. He took a deep breath.

“Is this okay?”

You raised an eyebrow, taking a bite of a garlic knot that tasted of heaven. “Okay? Bucky this is amazing. You really didn’t have to do all this for me–”

“Will you stop with that?” Bucky teased, shaking his head as he unwrapped a slice of pizza. “You deserve all of this and more, alright? I know you’d be happy sitting on the couch watching TV and ordering takeout, but you have to let me do this every once in a while, doll. I gotta prove to you and the surrounding Brooklyn area that I’m still a romantic at heart and a damn good boyfriend!”

You swallowed, staring at him and you realized he didn’t seem to notice what he said. He was contently eating his pizza, chewing mouth fulls of bread and cheese as he settled in beside you.

You pursed your lips, leaning down to rest against your elbow. “Boyfriend, huh?”

Bucky froze instantly. Like stone. Though his face was beet red.

“We did skip several steps, didn’t we?” you added, giving him some relief from the panic undoubtably coursing through his veins. He nodded slowly, apprehensively, though he was still stiff. You laughed, reaching over to run a hand down his arm in hopes to loosening the tension. “I think the idea if you do.”

He chewed on his lip, blue eyes flashing at you enough to twist and pull at your stomach for decades. “Yeah?”

You nodded, heart racing. “Yeah.”

“Think you’d let me kiss you now?” Always the charmer.

You shrugged. “Only if you’re okay with a little garlic.”

“Little? You ate four garlics in the span of two minutes,” he grinned, though he was closing the space between you. His nose brushed yours, his smile reaching up high into his cheeks and you decided this was where you wanted to be, always.

He brushed over your lips, teasing you before pulled back enough to give you a full glimpse into the ocean blue of his eyes. “I will take every opportunity to kiss you, sweetheart.”

And he did.


	7. Drabble: Follow Request

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Do Becca and Bucky become close again? Like texting and talking? I can see Becca requesting to follow Bucky and reader on Instagram or something and Bucky being so happy"

It was a warm day in the city so you decided to meet Bucky down at a coffee shop in Brooklyn near his apartment. He put up a fight at that, always wanting to be the one to travel to you, make things as easy on you as possible, but you were insistent. He was already waiting a table positioned outside under an umbrella, your favorite drink ordered as he was talking to the server.

You waved as you crossed the sidewalk and the moment he caught your eye, his face lit up. He handed the menus back to the server and quickly stood as you approached. His hand slipped against your lower back, pulling you in for a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth.

He pulled out the chair for you with a wink and you sat down.

“You order for me again?” you laughed, leaning forward to take in the scent of the coffee and sweet creamer. Your mouth started to water.

Bucky shrugged, trying to downplay it. “Thought you might like it. We can always order another if you–”

“This is perfect, Buck. Thank you,” you smiled at him, taking a sip and fluttering your eyes closed at the taste. He knew you too well for a man you’d only met a month ago.

This became part of your weekend routine. Sunday mornings at local cafes. He’d find time to see you during the week, texting or calling on the nights you couldn’t slip away from work, but he’d made himself indispensable in your life. He was a permanent fixture now and there was no getting out of it, not that you’d ever dreamed of it.

After your coffee was near finished and you were both scrolling through your phones in search of the name of an actor on the tip of your tongue, when you glanced up to find Bucky frozen completely still. He was like a statue, paralyzed, and his eyes were bulging wide.

“Bucky? You okay?” you asked cautiously, setting your phone down gently on the table. He didn’t move, but you saw the clench of his jaw, the muscle twitching under the surface. You reached across the table, touching his hand to try and pull him from his daze, but he barely seemed to notice. “Buck, talk to me.”

He swallowed and turned the phone around to you. It was open to his Instagram requests, a long series of usernames he’d ignored over the years, but it was the one at the top, requested 3 minutes prior that froze him dead in his tracks.

rbarnes98

Rebecca.

“What do I do?” he gaped, his chest starting to rise at a rapid rate. He nearly dropped his phone as he pulled it back to stare down at the screen. “What do I do? Shit. Fuck. What do I do?”

“Buck, calm down,” you eased, quickly standing from your chair and skirting around the side of the table to kneel next to him. You rubbed at his thighs, then grabbed his hands and forced his attention back to you. “She requested me yesterday.”

Bucky paused, eyes narrowed, surprised. “She did?”

You nodded, offering him a smile. “Yup. This is her trying to mend things, Bucky. Let her.”

One quick glance back at his phone and he pushed out a heavy breath through his lips. You stood, brushing a hand through his hair as he grabbed his phone, fumbling with the password before the Instagram page came up again. You stayed over his shoulder, hands running along his scalp, down his arms. He needed the physical touch, you’d learned, to calm him down.

His thumb hovered over ‘accept’ for a minute before he closed his eyes and tapped the screen. You leaned down and kissed the crown of his head.

“Okay,” he sighed, nodding to himself. “Okay, yeah. I’ve got this. Now what?”

You laughed, scooting your chair around to sit next to him. He seemed to be more relieved at that. “Now, you can see what she posts. You can follow her back, you know?”

“What?”

“Buck, when is the last time you used Instagram?” you giggled, leaning onto his shoulder.

“Don’t think I have,” he replied in a short chuckle. He was looking down at his phone, scrolling through the images of years he’d missed. His right hand snaked around your thighs, tugging you closer and you watched as he clicked through the pictures.

“Oh wow, look at that one,” you pointed to the one of her and Bucky’s mother sitting on the porch steps of their home in Atlanta. It must have been around the time they’d closed on the house. Bucky smiled and continued scrolling.

He paused on one of two small children.

“Is that you?” you asked, zooming in on the little boy with big blue eyes in a sailor costume and chocolate sauce covering half of his mouth and splashes of frosting up in his eyebrows. He was holding an infant wrapped in a pink blanket. Rebecca.

“Yeah,” he said, a smile creeping up the sides of his face. “Guess I scrolled back pretty far.”

You glanced down to the date. It was around the time before Bucky enlisted a second time, before the fallout with his sister. The caption said ‘ _Happy birthday big brother. Thanks for always taken care of me, even when you couldn’t take care of yourself. Big love.’_

“That’s really sweet.”

“Wonder if we’ll ever get back to that,” Bucky sighed.

“You’re on the right path, Buck. That’s all that matters right now.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“Here,” you offered, picking up his phone and switching to camera mode. You held it up away from your faces and curled up close to Bucky’s side. “Smile for me.”

He didn’t. Instead he pressed a kiss to your cheek, forcing you to laugh. You pushed him away playfully and began to attempt another picture, but Bucky stole the phone from your hand. He opened the photos to find you’d accidently snapped the picture anyway.

“Use that.”

“It’s blurry,” you teased but he wasn’t having it.

“It’s artistic,” he argued with that grin of his you’d come to adore. “You look happy here,” he added sincerely, shyly. “I do, too.”

So, you posted his first picture. Just a series of emojis as a caption because he didn’t want to spend another second dealing with that when he could be kissing you. You had to shove him away before he started drawing the attention of half the city block. The pout he gave you nearly made you cave in then and there.

As you paid the bill and turned to leave, Bucky reached for his phone, a narrowed look on his face. You started to laugh, shaking your head because judging by his expression, you knew what was coming next. You were nearly halfway down the sidewalk before Bucky came sprinting up behind you, grinning and jumping and showing you the notification on his phone.

_rbarnes98 liked your photo_


	8. Drabble: I Love You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What about the time reader says I love you for the first time and it's not very good timing and they dont see each other for a bit after she says it and she's worried she messed up?"

“Doll, I really gotta go,” Bucky laughed, one foot inside the taxi, the rest of him leaning up and over the door as you kept your hands gripped into the collar of his shirt. He giggled like a kid on a playground as you pressed kisses to his nose, his cheeks, his forehead, his lips. Neither of you minded as the taxi driver impatiently blared down on the horn.

It was hard to let go of him knowing he’d be leaving for two weeks to visit Rebecca at Oxford. He was so proud the day she’d called and told him she’d been accepted to their graduate program, he’d shouted the news to the entire café at near eight in the morning, startling an old man into spilling his tea down his front. Bucky had apologized profusely, bought the man a new drink and scone to make up for the mess, but he was giddy with pride, whistling and grinning to himself, for the entire day.

Six months had passed the graduation and things had been better between Bucky and his sister. They texted once every few weeks, a short exchange here and there, simple questions about Bucky’s job and whether Rebecca had started packing yet. They were mending something that had been severed for years. It would take time. They both knew that.

But this was a good step.

“Sweetheart, stop it! I’m gonna miss my flight,” Bucky warned, trying to pull away again, though he didn’t put much effort into it. He was usually the one fighting for affection, pulling you into his arms on the street and kissing you until strangers turned away awkwardly. He liked the attention and wondered if he should travel more just to see this side of you again.

“Okay, okay,” you conceded, letting go of his shirt and he fell into his seat with a huff. His hair was messy from where your hands had run through it and he had that blissed out kind of look on his face that made your stomach twist to knots. You closed the door behind him and tapped on the roof of the taxi.

Bucky rolled down the window, resting his forearms on the frame as the driver switched on the turn signal. You stepped back to the sidewalk, giving him a short wave.

“I’ll call,” Bucky promised. He looked like a damn dream.

“I know you will,” you replied, arms folded over your chest as you smiled back at him.

The taxi started to pull out into the street and you missed him already. Bucky mouthed a last goodbye, his voice obstructed by the shout of the cabby as he cursed out the driver next to him. You laughed, following the few feet down the sidewalk to be with him just a little longer.

“Just fly safe, alright? Have fun for me,” you laughed, shaking your head at Bucky’s attempts to hold a conversation with you from his window of the taxi.

“Won’t be possible without you!” He was practically screaming. His driver looked about ready to toss him on the street.

“ _Goodbye_ , Bucky,” you teased, shaking your head as you started to back away. “Love you.”

Bucky’s smile fell away in an instant. Face falling into shock. Eyes wide. “What?”

You raised a brow. You couldn’t hear him. A bike zoomed past you, keeping you from walking out to the curb. “What’s wrong?”

“What did you just say?” he called over the rush of traffic, then turning to the cab driver to get him to pull over but it was too late. The cab disappeared into the flow of cars.

Shaking your head, you pulled out your phone at the soft vibrations in your pocket, Bucky’s face illuminated on the screen, when a sudden heavy force slammed into your side, sending you spiraling to the ground. You fell with a thud against your left hip, turning to find a jogger in expensive running gear sending an apologetic grimace over his shoulder as he pointed at his watch, a signal that he needed to keep his pace and couldn’t bother to stop to help you.

You rolled your eyes, trying to find your footing again when you realized your phone had been thrown from your hands. It was a few feet into the street, but it appeared unharmed. Bucky’s name was still lit up on the screen. The slight wave of relief was short lived until a Tesla drove right over it as you took your first step off the curb, its horn screaming at you.

Your phone was in pieces.

_Well, shit._

You thought about running upstairs to grab your computer before realizing Bucky took your laptop to the Apple store a few days ago after it started displaying the blue screen of death. With no access to your phone or social media, you’d just have to hope whatever he was so concerned about wasn’t a huge deal. You’d get your phone sorted out in a few hours.

Hopefully you could track him down before his flight took off.

-

Later, after you’d spent an hour sitting in the lobby of the cell store, waiting for your turn, you started thinking back to your goodbye with Bucky, wondering what had set him off. You’d been teasing him. It was hard to hear over the horns of the traffic and the pedestrians around you, but you were certain he’d known you were joking with him.

He said he’d call.

You told him to be safe. Have fun.

He made his corny jokes.

You said goodbye and then…

“ _Shit_!” you gasped, hands clamping to your mouth as a mother quickly stood from her seat next to you carrying a three-year-old now repeating the curse word on a loop. She glared at you and you couldn’t hold it together enough to offer an apology.

You’d told him _you loved him._

You’d known for a while, felt it almost before you’d even boarded the plane back to the city that first weekend, but you were never supposed to tell him like this. You were going to wait a few more months, when it felt like a reasonable time when most normal couples who met in a perfectly average way would have said that sort of thing.

Not as he was driving away to board a flight to London for the next two weeks.

“Oh, God,” you whined, sinking into the chair, remembering the look on his face, how his smile had fallen away, how shocked he’d been. You pinched at the bridge of your nose, your cheeks hot with embarrassment, and you tried to make yourself as small as you could manage.

It didn’t work.

“Y/n?”

You glanced up to find an employee in a red shirt calling your name. She offered you a sad smile as you hulled yourself to your feet. The look on her face was warning enough.

“It looks like we’re going to need two weeks to get the parts for your phone,” she said.

You nodded. Of course.

“You’re welcome to use one of our other devices in the meantime.” She gestured to a wall of phones, all of which were priced at rentals well over your budget. You didn’t have the spare funds to be wasting on the parts for your phone, let alone another phone entirely.

“N-No, I’ll manage,” you said dejectedly. You’d lived without a cellphone once in your life. You’d been a kid in the age before children had iPads and touchscreens were considered the peak of technology. You could get through this.

Until you realized you didn’t know Bucky’s number. Or Steve’s. Or anyone that could possibly get you in contact with him once his plane landed in London. You wondered if he’d still try to call only to be met with your voicemail or if you’d freaked him out enough to keep his distance. You wouldn’t find out, you supposed. He had no way of reaching you until he got back.

-

It was the day Bucky was supposed to get back.

You had spent the past two weeks in constant anxiety. There had been a few times you thought about tracking down Steve at his place, but you couldn’t remember the address or how to get there. How had you become so reliant on a damn phone?

So, you sat on your couch, staring at the wall. He’d go straight home, you were sure. He’d be exhausted from jetlag and the itinerary of sights Rebecca likely dragged him and his mother on. You’d seen her email detailing the trip before he left. He’d been so excited.

You were about to go downstairs to check your mail again, hoping they’d shipped you your phone by now, when you heard a sudden pounding on the door that forced a skip in your heart.

“Y/n?! Please tell me you’re in there! Jesus— open the door.”

_Bucky?_

You found yourself paralyzed, terrified to even stand. The pounding continued.

“Come on,” Bucky called and you could the crack in his voice, the panic. “Don’t do this to me. I gotta talk to you. Please be home. Please be home.”

You swallowed nervously, standing on wobbling legs as you made your way to the door. He was still knocking on the other side, calling out to you and you could hear your neighbors shouting at him to quiet down, but he didn’t let up.

The moment you unfastened the deadbolt, he silenced instantly. A squeak in the floor meant he took a step back and you slowly opened the door.

He stood in the frame; dark circles under his eyes and his luggage down at his feet. He was out of breath.

Then, unable to take the tension, you boke spoke at once.

“You didn’t answer my calls.”

“A Tesla ran over my phone.”

Bucky paused, confused. “Wait– _what_?”

You took a deep breath, twisting at your hands nervously, avoiding his eyes. “A, um, a Tesla ran over my phone after you left. I’ve been waiting on a replacement but the interim phones were too expensive and you took my computer to the shop earlier this week, so I haven’t been able to get ahold of anyone and I’ve been–”

“Oh, thank God.” Bucky engulfed you into his arms, causing you to stumble back a few paces into your kitchen, but he held you steady. His nose pressed in tight to your neck, arms constricting at your waist. “You weren’t picking up when I called and I thought—I thought you didn’t–”

He didn’t finish the thought.

“You did mean it, right?” he asked slowly, pulling back just enough to see your eyes. He was searching you, scanning you, but you couldn’t speak. “Tell me you did. I’ve been going crazy, doll. I almost got on a flight back about seven different times but my ma kept trying to tell me I was being nuts, but I— I couldn’t stand the idea of you not knowing I love you, too.”

“You what?” The air left your lungs, Bucky’s face still nuzzled in tight to the crook of your neck, his words slightly muffled by the cotton of your sweatshirt.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to see your face. There was a kind of relief in his eyes as a heavy breath left his lungs. He brushed a hair away from your face, thumb tracing delicately over your cheekbone.

“I love you,” he said again, so calmly, so sweetly, it ignited a storm of fireworks and butterflies in your stomach. “Please tell me I wasn’t hearing you wrong because I’ll start feeling really damn stup–”

Lips crashed to his, hands curling tight into the lapel of his jacket, as close as you could manage to get him. He smiled against your lips, the soft vibrations of his laugh warm against you, and you melded to him. It was where you should be.

Only after your lungs were tight without air, you pulled back, pressing a kiss to his cheeks, the corners of his mouth, his nose, his jaw, until he was laughing and smiling wide enough for it to wrinkle by his eyes.

Bucky wrapped his arms around your shoulders, holding you close. “So, does this mean–”

You swatted his arm, kissing him again, before you said what you’d been waiting to since the day you boarded the flight back to NYC, hand in hand, without the weight of your insecurities on your shoulders, a burden he’d helped in lifting.

“I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok folks that’s the end of this lovely series! I’ve so appreciated the love and support on my first real attempt at fluff ♥️


	9. Drabble: Quarantine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't usually revisit fics after I've completed them and moved on to somethings else, but unprecedented times call for random drabbles to help us get through quarantine ok?? 
> 
> From an ask on tumblr: "Do you still do hc’s for finished stories? I know you’re done with I’m with you but I just re-read it and I’m curious how they’re doing? How are they during quarantine? Do they already live together or do they decide to stay together? Are they driving each other crazy? So many important questions 😂😂"
> 
> I also did this in the style of a headcanon

> You don’t live together just yet, but Bucky’s asked about a dozen times. You figure with how fast everything started, it’s best to take the rest a little slower. Doesn’t seem to matter that the two of you spend most nights at one another’s apartments and rarely sleep alone. Or that you’ve taken over more than half of his closet and he left his favorite sweatshirt on your couch. 

> It’s early on when the cases first start being reported in New York that you come home from work find Bucky sitting on the stoop of your brownstone with two suitcases and a pile of groceries. He’s one for the dramatics, as you can easily recall from when you met in the Charlotte airport, so it doesn’t surprise you when he insists you ‘ride out the storm together.’ You laugh and let him bring his things up, though you’re certain it’ll be over in a week. 

> But then businesses start closing. Hospitals are overwhelmed. Stay at home orders are issues. You start working from home. Governor Cuomo is on your TV every day and in the rare occasions you step foot outside, you don’t do so without a mask. Your hands are rubbed dry as sandpaper from all the disinfectant and you’re _scared._ You’re scared for your parents, for _Bucky’s parents_ , for Steve who grew up with asthma, for the first responders, for Becca who’s studying to be a nurse. You feel like you’re drowning in your own apartment and the world is eerily quiet and deafening all at once. Times Square is a ghost town. 

> Bucky doesn’t hesitate. He’s there. He’s _always_ there. Making breakfast in the morning. Bringing home your favorite ice cream from the store on his grocery runs. Setting up zoom calls with your friends and bringing you glasses of wine and bowls of popcorn. Building forts in the living room and making scavenger hunts around the apartment. Learning how to bake bread and setting off the smoke detectors. Going through old photo albums and binging that show you never got around to. Holding your hand when it feels like this will never end and kissing your forehead as you curl up against his side late at night. Letting you cry on his shoulder and whispering that he’s there, he’s _here_ , and he won’t let you go. 

> You don’t know what is going to happen or when things will get back to normal. Every day is just more of the same. There is no future. There are no plans. There is only today and the uncertainty of it terrifies you. 

> All you know is that when dark casts in through the windows and the city that never sleeps is rendered silent, _Bucky is with you_ and he’s enough. 


End file.
